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ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Copyright,    1 90 1 

By 

THE    UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


COLLE< 

LIBRAF 

PR 

THE  f^^^ 

TRAGEDY  OF   ROMEO   AND   JULIET. 

Preface. 

The  Earliest  Edition.  The  First  Edition  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet  was  a  quarto  published  in  1597  with  the  fol- 
lowing title-page: — 

"An  I  Excellent  |  conceited  Tragedie  |  of  |  Romeo 
and  luliet,  |  As  it  hath  been  often  (with  great  applause) 


nourable  the  L.  of 
Printed     by     lohn 


plaid  publiquely  by  the  right  Ho 
Hunsdon  \  his  Seruants.  |  London 
Danter.  I  1597-1" 

A  second  quarto  edition  appeared  in   1599: — ''The 
Most  Ex-  I  cellent  and  lamentable  |  Tragedie,  of  Romeo 
and  luliet.  \  Nezdy  corrected,  augmented,  and  |  amended: 
I  As  it  hath  bene  sundry  times  publiquely  acted,  by  the 
right  Honourable  the  Lord  Chamberlaine  his  Seruants. 
London  |  Printer    by    Thomas    Creede,    for    Cuthbert 
Burby,  and  are  to  |  be  sold  at  his  shop  neare  the  Ex- 
change. |  1599." 

A  third  quarto  was  issued  in  1609,  as  "  acted  by  the 
King's  Maiesties  Seruants,  at  the  Globe,"  and  "  printed 
for  lohn  Smethwick";  this  edition  was  subsequently 
reprinted,  with  an  undated  title-page,  giving  us  for  the 
first  time  the  name  of  the  author — "  written  by  W. 
Shakespeare,''  though  this  additional  information  is  not 
found  in  all  the  copies. 

A  fifth  quarto,  identical  with  the  fourth,  bears  the 
date  of  1637. 

The  text  of  the  First  Folio  version  was  taken  from 
the  third  quarto;  many  errors  therein  seem  due  to  the 
compositors.     The  second  quaito  is  our  best  authority 


:  I 


Preface  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

for  the  play,  though  "  it  is  certain  that  it  was  not  printed 
from  the  author's  MS.,  but  from  a  transcript,  the  writer 
of  which  was  not  only  careless,  but  thought  fit  to  take 
unwarrantable  liberties  with  the  text."  It  formed  the 
basis  of  the  third  quarto;  this  again  was  used  for  the 
fourth,  and  the  fourth  was  reprinted  as  the  fifth  edition; 
all  these  are  therefore  often  in  agreement,  and  are  re- 
ferred to  as  Quartos. 

Quarto  i,  which  is  nearly  one  quarter  less  than  Quarto 
2  (2232  lines  as  against  3007),  was  evidently  made  up 
from  shorthand  notes  taken  at  the  theatre,  supplemented 
by  copies  of  portions  of  the  original  play,  which  for  the 
most  part  appears  to  have  agreed  with  the  authorised 
version  of  1599,  though  certain  essential  differences  be- 
tween the  two  editions  make  it  probable  that  many  a  pas- 
sage had  been  revised,  re-written,  or  augmented  {e.g. 
Act  II.,  Sc.  vi.,  the  meeting  of  Romeo  and  JuHet  at  the 
Friar's  cell ;  Act  IV.,  Sc.  v.,  the  lamentations  over  Juliet ; 
Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  12-17).  I^  spite  of  its  many  defects,  the 
First  Quarto  cannot  be  altogether  neglected  in  dealing 
with  the  text  of  the  play.  The  theory,  however,  that  it 
gives  us  "  a  fairly  accurate  version  of  the  play  as  it  was 
first  written  "  is  now  held  by  few  scholars.* 

Date  of  Composition.  The  evidence  seems  to  point  to 
as  early  a  year  as  1591  for  the  date  of  the  composition  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  at  least  in  its  first  form,  though  the  play, 
as  we  know  it,  may  safely  be  dated  circa  1596. 

In  proof  of  the  early  date  the  following  are  noteworthy 
points: — (i)  in  Weever's  Epigrams,  written  before  1595, 

*  The  First  quarto  has  been  reprinted  by  the  Cambridge  Editors, 
and  in  Mr.  Furness'  Variorum  Edition ;  there  is  a  facsimile  edi- 
tion of  Quartos  i,  2,  4,  in  Shakespere  Quarto  Facsimiles;  there 
are  two  valuable  critical  parallel  editions  of  the  First  and  Second 
quartos,  by  Tycho  Mommsen  (published  in  1859,  with  a  full  study 
of  the  textual  problems),  and  by  P.  A.  Daniel  {New  Shakespere 
Society,  1874)  ;  a  summary  of  the  various  theories  held  by  scholars 
on  the  relationship  of  the  quartos,  etc.,  is  to  be  found  in  Furness, 
pp.  415-424. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  j  Preface 

Romeo  is  alluded  to  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  popular  char- 
acters; (ii)  the  allusions  (I.  iii.  23,  25)  to  the  earthquake 
seem  to  refer  to  a  famous  earthquake  felt  in  London  in 
1580;  (iii)  passages  in  Daniel's  Complainte  of  Rosamunde, 
1592,  are  probably  reminiscent  of  Romeo's  speech  in 
presence  of  Juliet  in  the  tomb*;  (iv)  there  are  several 
striking  parallels  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  Marlowe's 
plays t  and  other  early  dramas  (e.g.  Dr.  DodipoU,  written 
before  1596);  certain  passages  in  undoubtedly  early 
plays,  e.g.  Tn'o  Gentlemen  of  Verona  (Act  V.  11.  i-io) 
suggests  points  of  contact  with  the  present  play. 

But  over  and  above  these  external  points  must  be 
placed  the  internal  evidence,  which  places  Romeo  and 
Juliet  among  the  early  love-plays: — (i)  the  frequency  of 
rhyme,  much  of  it  in  the  form  of  alternate  rhymes;  (ii) 
the  conceits,  word-play,  alliteration,  and  the  hke;  (iii)  the 
lyrical  character  of  the  whole.  It  is  peculiarly  striking 
that  the  three  chief  forms  of  medieval  love-poetry  are  to 
be  found  in  the  play;  (i)  in  the  sonnet-form  of  the  first 
meeting  of  the  lovers;  (ii)  in  the  serena,  or  evening-song, 
of  Juhet  (Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  1-33)  ;  (iii.)  in  the  alha  or 
dawn-song,  of  the  parting  lovers  (Act  III.  Sc.  v.  1-36). 

To  these  typical  lyrical  pieces  should  be  added  Paris' 

*  The  argument  might,  of  course,  work  the  other  way  (and  it  is 
often  taken  so) ,  but  Daniel  was  notorious  for  his  conveyance  of 
Shakespearian  beauties,  and  is  alluded  to,  from  his  point  of  view, 
in  The  Return  from  Parnassus,  where  a  character,  Gallio  by  name, 
shows  too  ready  a  knowledge  of  the  play,  and  Ingenioso  observes 
in  an  "aside": — Mark,  Romeo  and  Juliet.  O  monstrous  theft! 
I  think  he  will  run  through  a  hook  of  Samuel  Daniell's."  The 
meaning  of  this  comment  is  clear  from  the  third  play  of  the  "  Par- 
nassus Trilogy,'"  where  the  criticism  on  Daniel  is  to  this  effect : — 

"  Only  let  him  more  sparingly  make  use 
Of  others'  wit  and  use  his  own  the  more." 

(Cf.  Preface  to  Richard  II.) 

1  E.g.  The  first  lines  of  Juliet's  "  Serena  "  seem  like  an  echo  o£ 
a  passage  in  Edward  XL : — "  Gallop  apace  bright  Phoebus  thro'  the 
sky,"  etc. 


Preface  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

highest  lyrical  expression,  the  graceful  though  conven- 
tional elegiac  sestet  (V.  iii.  12-18).* 

Finally,   one  must  not  overlook  the  close   connection 
of  the  play  with  the  sonnets,  many  of  which,  as  we  know 
from  Meres,  must  have  been  written  before  1598;  it  is  a 
pity  we  cannot  definitely  date  Sonnet  cxvi. : — 
"Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  where  it  alteration  finds, 
Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove. 

Love's  not  Tim.e's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 
Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  comes.  .   .   ." 

The  Plot.  A  story  having  the  same  features  as  Romeo 
and  Juliet  has  been  found  in  a  Greek  medieval  Romance 
of  the  fifth  century,  but  whatever  its  ultimate  origin,  the 
story  eventually  becomes  localised  in  Italy,  the  Veronese 
fixing  the  date  of  the  tragedy  in  the  year  1303.  Dante, 
reproaching  the  Emperor  Albert  for  the  neglect  of  Italy 
(Purg.  vi.),  alludes  thus  to  the  Montagues  and  Capu- 
lets:— 

'''  Vieni,  a  vcder  Montechie  Capelletti,"  etc.  t 

Although  several  earlier  Italian  stories  exist  recalling 
that  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  these  names  of  the  lovers  are 
not  found  in  Itahan  literature  till  about  1530,  when  their 
history,  "  histcria  novellamente  retrovata  di  duo  nohili 
amanti,"  was  first  told  by  Luigi  da  Porto,  who,  a  love- 
sick soldier,  once  heard  the  story  from  his  favourite 
archer,  the  Veronese  Peregrino,  as  they  rode  along  the 
lonely  road  from  Gradisca  and  Udine,  in  the  country  of 
Friuli.  Peregrino's  story  was  in  all  probability  based  on 
an  old  tale  found  among  the  Novelle  of  Masuccio  Saler- 
nitano,  printed  at  Naples  in  1476.     Da  Porto's  novel  be- 

*  Contrast  this  with  Romeo's  blank  verse  speech,  which  imme- 
diately follows.     Nothing  could  be  more  significant. 
"f'Come,  see  the  Capulcts  and  Montagues, 
The  Filippeschi  and  Monaldi,  man, 

V/ho  ca?st  for  nought!     Those  sunk  in  grief,  and  these 
With  dire  suspicion  rack'd." 

4 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Preface 

came  very  popular,  and  several  renderings  were  made  of 
the  story.*  Most  important  is  that  of  Bandello  (1554), 
which  was  translated  into  French  by  Boisteau,  and  in- 
cluded in  his  famous  Histoires  Tragiques  (1559),  whence 
were  derived  two  English  versions  : — (i)  Arthur  Brooke's 
poem  (1562),  and  (ii)  Paynter's  novel  (1567),  included 
in  the  "  Palace  of  Pleasure." 

The  Poem  and  the  Play.  Shakespeare  probably  con- 
sulted both  these  versions  of  the  story,  but  Brooke's  poem 
was  his  main  source.  He  followed  it  closely;  here  and 
there  the  play  betrays  a  slight  influence  upon  its  diction ; 
conceits  and  antithesis  in  the  poem  may  occasionally  be 
paralleled  from  the  play.  The  plot  of  the  two  versions  is 
substantially  the  same,t  but  Shakespeare  shows  his  dra- 
matic skill' in  dealing  with  the  materials — e.g.  (i)  he 
compresses  the  action,  which  in  the  story  occupies  four 
or  five  months,  into  as  many  days;  (ii)  he  recreates  the 
character  of  Mercutio,  who  in  the  poem  is  a  mere  "  cour- 
tier bold  among  the  bashful  maydes  " ;  (iii)  he  makes 
Paris  die  at  the  grave  of  Juliet  by  the  hand  of  Romeo; 
in  the  poem  nothing  is  heard  of  the  Count  after  his  dis- 
appointment. 

But  though  in  subject  Shakespeare  follows  Brooke,  it 
need  hardly'be  said  that  in  its  spirit — in  its  transfiguration 
of  the  story — the  play  altogether  transcends  the  poem ;   a 

*  In  1553  Gabriel  Giolito  published  in  Venice  a  poem  on  the  sub- 
ject; its  author  was  probably  Gherardo  Boldiero.  Ten  years  pre- 
viously (1542)  Adrian  Sevin,  the  translator  of  Boccacio's 
Philocopo,  gave  the  story  in  French,  though  the  names  of  the 
lovers  became  strangely  changed  in  his  version.  (The  sources  are 
discussed  in  Simrock's  Quellen,  Furness'  Variorum  Edition,  etc.; 
specially  valuable  is  Daniel's  Originals  and  Analogues,  Part  I. 
New  Shak.  Soc.) 

tin  the  versions  of  Da  Porto  and  Bandello,  and  in  Garrick's 
acting  version  of  Shakespeare's  play,  Juliet  wakes  from  her  sleep 
while  Romeo  still  lives ;  Shakespeare  follows  Brooke  and  Paynter 
in  the  catastrophe  of  the  play.  On  the  other  hand,  Shakespeare 
makes  Juliet  two  years  younger  than  she  is  in  Brooke's  poem. 


Preface  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

greater  effort  than  Brooke's  wearisome  production*  would 
pale  its  uneffectual  fire  before  the  glowing  warmth  of  this 
Song  of  Songs  of  Romantic  Passion. 

Early  Plays  on  **  Romeo  and  Juliet.'*  In  his  "address 
to  the  Reader,"  Brooke  speaks  of  having  seen  ''  the  same 
argument  lately  set  forth  on  stage  with  more  commenda- 
tion than  I  can  look  for."  No  trace  has  been  discovered 
of  the  drama  alluded  to;  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  popu- 
lar Romantic  play  belonging  to  this  early  date  (c.  1562), 
and  no  doubt  Brooke  was  referj-ing  to  some  such  Aca- 
demic production  as  "  Tancred  and  Gismunda  ";  possibly 
the  play  in  question  was  an  exercise  in  Latin f  verse,  acted 
in  a  College  Hall  or  at  the  Inns  of  Court. 

The  earliest  extant  play  on  the  subject  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet  is  La  Hadriana,  by  the  blind  poet  and  actor,  Luigi 
Groto;  its  date  is  1578.  There  are  some  few  striking 
resemblances  with  Shakespeare's  play ;  the  most  note- 
worthy being  the  parting  of  the  tw^o  lovers.  J 

*  A  short  specimen  will  interest  the  reader : — 
"At  last  with  trembling  voice  and  shamefast  cheer  the  maid 
Unto  her  Romeus  turned  herself,  and  thus  to  him  she  said: — 
O  blessed  be  the  time. of  thy  arrival  here: 

But  ere  she  coidd  speak  forth  the  rest,  to  her  love  drew  so  near; 

And  so  within  her  mouth  her  tongue  he  glewed  fast 

That  no  one  word  could  scape  her  more,  than  what  already  past." 

t  There  exist,  indeed,  among  the  Sloane  MSS.,  the  fragments  of 

a  Latin  version  of  the  story,  evidently  the  exercise  of  a  Cambridge 

student,  but  the  MS.  belongs,  I  think,  to  the  beginning  of  the  17th 

century.     It  is  nevertheless  an  interesting  curiosity. 

$J.  C.  Walker,  in  his  "Historical  Memoir  on  Italian  Tragedy," 
first  called  attention  to  the  play  from  this  point  of  view,  and 
translated  the  passages  in  question ;  e.g. 

Latino.   If  I  err  not,  the  lamp  of  day  is  nigh. 

List  to  the  nightingale,  that  wakes  with  us. 
With  US  laments  mid  thorns;  and  now  the  dew. 
Like  our  tears,  pearls  the  grass.    Ah  me,  alas. 
Turn  towards  the  east  thy  face,  etc. 
Groto's  play  was  certainly  known  in  England;  there  is  an  an- 
noted  copy  among  the  dramatist  Ruggles'  books  at  Clare  College. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Preface 

Shakespeare's  great  contemporary,  the  Spanish  drama- 
tist, Lope  de  Vega,  used  the  same  subject  for  one  of  his 
bright  and  graceful  "  cloak  and  sword  comedies,"  imder 
the  title  of  "  Castelvines  y  MontesesJ'  Again,  Lope's 
successor,  Francisco  de  Rojas  y  Zorrilla,  was  drawn  to 
the  theme,  and  founded  upon  it  his  "  Los  Bandos  de  Ve- 
rona. 


As  early  as  1626,  if  not  earlier,  a  version  of  Shake- 
speare's play  was  known  in  Germany  (v.  Cohn's  '^Shake- 
speare in  Germany  in  the  XVIth  and  XVII th  centuries  "). 
On  the  many  English  acting  perversions  of  the  tragedy, 
it  is  unnecessary  to  comment. 

Duration  of  Action.  Shakespeare's  compression  of 
the  story  has  already  been  referred  to ;  four  or  five  days 
cover  the  whole  action  of  the  play,  the  rapidity  of  events 
efifectively  harmonising  with  the  "  local  colour,"  with  the 
violent  love  and  violent  hate  of  the  impulsive  South,  "  too 
like  the  lightning." 

The  lovers  meet  on  Sunday ;  they  are  wedded  on  Mon- 
day ;  they  part  at  dawn  on  Tuesday ;  they  are  re-united 
in  death  on  the  night  of  Thursday. 

**  <©  (pric  "Sote,  !)alf  anqzX  anb  fjalf  birb. 
2tntj  all  a  toonDec  anb  a  tuilb  bcjefircP^ 

*  F.  W.  Cosens  published  a  translation  of  both  plays  in  a  pri- 
vately printed  edition.  A  full  summary  of  Lope's  drama  is  to  be 
found  in  Furness'  ''Variorum''  Romeo  and  Jtdiet. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Critical  Comments. 
I. 

Argument. 

I,  The  Veronese  houses  of  Montague  and  Capulet 
have  had  a  feud  of  long  standing,  which  has  brought 
about  continued  street-brawls  between  retainers  of  the 
families,  from  the  highest  relatives  to  the  lowest  servants. 
The  old  Capulet  gives  a  feast  to  which  all  his  friends 
are  bidden.  Naturally  the  Montagues  are  not  included 
in  the  list.  But  Romeo,  the  heir  of  the  latter  house,  is 
persuaded  to  don  a  mask  and  present  himself  at  the 
festivities  in  order  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Rosaline,  a 
flame  of  his.  Romeo,  however,  has  scant  eyes  for  Rosa- 
line; he  discovers  another  young  girl  whose  beauty  and 
grace  set  his  heart  beating  as  it  never  beat  before.  He 
inquires  her  name  and  is  dismayed  to  learn  that  she  is 
Juliet,  the  heiress  of  the  Capulets.  Meanwhile  Tybalt, 
nephew  to  Lady  Capulet,  discovers  the  identity  of  Romeo, 
and  is  barely  dissuaded  by  old  Capulet — whose  hospitality 
overrides  his  anger — from  drawing  upon  the  Montague. 

II,  Juliet  has  likewise  discovered  the  name  of  the 
handsome  young  stranger,  who  carried  off  her  affec- 
tions by  storm  at  the  banquet.  Melancholy  and  love- 
lorn, she  repairs  to  her  balcony,  and  there  confides  to 
the  moon  and  stars  the  secret  of  her  heart.  But  it  hap- 
pens that  Romeo  is  underneath  the  balcony  and  hears 
her  confess  her  love  for  him.  Overjoyed,  he  reveals  his 
presence,  and  the  maiden  is  constrained  to  make  a  fur- 
ther avowal.  The  lovers  resolve  on  a  speedy  and  secret 
marriage,  which  is  brought  to  pass  the  very  next  day 
in  the  cell  of  Friar  Laurence,  a  friend  of  Romeo's. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

III.  On  the  day  of  the  wedding  two  of  Romeo's 
friends,  Benvoho  and  Mercutio,  while  walking  through 
the  streets  of  Verona,  are  accosted  by  Tybalt,  who  is 
seeking  an  encounter  with  Romeo  because  of  the  latter's 
presence  at  the  Capulet's  during  the  feast.  A  quarrel 
ensues,  and  at  its  height  Romeo  appears.  Tybalt  rails 
at  him,  but  Romeo  answers  softly,  for  he  is  just  return- 
ing from  his  wedding  and  the  Capulets  are  no  longer 
so  hateful  in  his  eyes.  The  others,  however,  cannot 
understand  his  weakness,  and  Mercutio,  exasperated, 
fights  Tybalt  in  his  stead.  Mercutio  is  slain.  Romeo, 
in  just  vengeance,  then  turns  upon  and  slays  Tybalt. 
By  a  mandate  of  the  Prince  of  Verona,  Romeo  is  ban- 
ished. He  flees  the  land,  leaving  Juliet  the  weeping 
bride  of  one  night. 

Juliet's  father,  knowing  nothing  of  her  secret  nuptials, 
is  resolved  to  wed  her  to  her  kinsman  the  young  Paris. 

IV.  In  her  despair  Juliet  consults  the  friendly  Friar 
Laurence,  who  advises  her  to  appear  to  consent  to  a 
marriage  with  Paris,  but  on  her  nuptial  morn  to  drink 
a  potion  which  the  Friar  prepares  for  her.  This  will 
give  her,  he  says,  the  semblance  of  death;  she  will  be 
laid  away  in  the  burial  vault,  and  Romeo  will  be  sent 
for  to  rescue  her.  She  takes  the  drug  as  the  Friar 
directs  and  her  parents,  heart-broken,  believe  her  dead 
and  consign  her  to  the  tomb. 

V.  Bad  news  travels  more  swiftly  than  good.  Before 
the  Friar  has  had  the  opportunity  to  notify  Romeo  of 
the  sham  death,  other  messengers  advise  him  that  JuHet 
is  really  no  more.  Romeo,  frantic  with  grief,  procures 
a  deadly  poison  and  goes  to  Juliet's  tomb  to  die  beside 
his  wife.  At  the  door  of  the  tomb  he  meets  Paris,  who 
forces  him  to  fight.  Paris  is  slain.  Romeo  enters  the 
tomb,  drinks  the  poison,  and  breathes  his  last.  A  few 
moments  later  Juliet  awakes  from  her  trance,  sees  her 
lover's  dead  body  and  learns  the  truth  from  Friar  Lau- 
rence, who  has  but  now  arrived  at  the  tomb.  She  seizes 
Romeo's  dagger  and  kills  herself.     The  double  tragedy 

Q 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

so  affects  the  heads  of  the  houses  of  Capulet  and  Mon- 
tague that  they  become  reconciled  as  through  a  bloody 
sacrifice. 

McSpadden  :  Shakespearian  Synopses. 


II. 

The  Southern  Atmosphere. 

Who  does  not  recall  those  lovely  summer  nights  in 
which  the  forces  of  nature  seem  eager  for  development, 
and  constrained  to  remain  in  drowsy  langour — a  min- 
gling of  intense  heat,  superabundant  energy,  impetuous 
power,  and  silent  freshness?  The  nightingale  sings  in 
the  depths  of  the  woods.  The  flower-cups  are  half 
closed.  A  pale  lustre  is  shed  over  the  foliage  of  the 
forests  and  upon  the  brow  of  the  hills.  The  deep  re- 
pose conceals,  we  are  aware,  a  procreant  force;  the 
melancholy  reserve  of  nature  is  the  mask  of  a  passionate 
emotion.  Under  the  paleness  and  the  coolness  of  the 
night,  you  divine  restrained  ardors,  and  flowers  which 
brood  in  silence,  impatient  to  shine  forth.  Such  is  the 
peculiar  atmosphere  with  which  Shakspeare  has  envel- 
oped one  of  his  most  wonderful  creations — Romeo  and 
Juliet.  Not  only  the  substance,  but  the  forms  of  the 
language  come  from  the  South.  Italy  was  the  inventor 
of  the  tale:  she  drew  it  from  her  national  memorials, 
her  old  family  feuds,  her  annals  filled  with  amorous 
and  bloody  intrigues.  In  its  lyric  accent,  its  blindness 
of  passion,  its  blossoming  and  abundant  vitality,  in  the 
brilliant  imagery,  in  the  bold  composition,  no  one  can 
fail  to  recognize  Italy.  Romeo  utters  himself  like  a 
sonnet  of  Petrarch,  with  the  same  refined  choice  and 
the  same  antitheses ;  there  is  the  same  grace  and  the 
same  pleasure  in  versifying  passion  in  allegorical  stan- 
zas.    Juliet,  too,  is  wholly  the  woman  of  Italy;    with 

10 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

small  gift  of  forethought,  and  absolutely  ingenuous  in 
her  abandon,  she  is  at  once  vehement  and  pure. 

Chasles  :  Etudes  sur  W.  Shakspeare, 


How  intense  is  the  life  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  in  their 
environment!  Hark  to  the  gay  and  yet  warlike  hubbub 
around  them,  the  sport  and  merriment,  the  high  words 
and  the  ring  of  steel  in  the  streets  of  Verona!  Hark 
to  the  Nurse's  strident  laughter,  old  Capulet's  jesting 
and  chiding,  the  low  tones  of  the  Friar,  and  the  irre- 
pressible rattle  of  Mercutio's  wit!  Feel  the  magic  of 
the  whole  atmosphere  in  which  they  are  plunged,  these 
embodiments  of  tumultuous  youth,  living  and  dying  in 
love,  in  magnanimity,  in  passion,  in  despair,  under  a 
glowing  Southern  sky,  softening  into  moonlight  nights 
of  sultry  fragrance — and  realise  that  Shakespeare  had 
at  this  point  completed  the  first  stage  of  his  triumphal 
progress ! 

Brandes  :  William  Shakespeare. 

III. 
Romeo. 

I  consider  Romeo  designed  to  represent  the  character 
of  an  unlucky  man — a  man,  who,  with  the  best  views 
and  fairest  intentions,  is  perpetually  so  unfortunate  as  to 
fail  in  every  aspiration,  and,  while  exerting  himself  to 
the  utmost  in  their  behalf,  to  involve  all  whom  he  holds 
dearest  in  misery  and  ruin.  Had  any  other  passion  or 
pursuit  occupied  Romeo,  he  would  have  been  equally 
unlucky  as  in  his  love.  Ill-fortune  has  marked  him  for 
her  own.  From  beginning  to  end  he  intends  the  best; 
but  his  interfering  is  ever  for  the  worst.  Everything 
glides  on  in  smooth  current  at  Capulet's  feast  till  the 
appearance  of  him  whose  presence  is  deadly.  Romeo 
himself  is  a  most  reluctant  visitor.     He  apprehends  that 

II 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

the  consequences  of  the  night's  revels  will  be  the  vile 
forfeit  of  a  despised  life  by  an  untimely  death,  but  sub- 
mits to  his  destiny.  He  foresees  that  it  is  no  wit  to  go, 
but  consoles  himself  with  the  reflection  that  he  ''  means 
well  in  going  to  this  masque."  His  intentions,  as  usual, 
are  good;  and,  as  usual,  their  consequences  are  ruinous. 
Vainly  does  Romeo  endeavour  to  pacify  the  bullying 
swordsman,  Tybalt;  vainly  does  he  decline  the  proffered 
duel.  His  good  intentions  are  again  doomed  to  be 
frustrated.  There  stands  by  his  side  as  mad-blooded  a 
spirit  as  Tybalt  himself,  and  Mercutio  takes  up  the 
abandoned  quarrel.  The  star  of  the  unlucky  man  is 
ever  in  the  ascendant.  His  ill-omened  interference 
slays  his  friend.  Had  he  kept  quiet  the  issue  might  have 
been  different;  but  the  power  that  had  the  steerage  of 
his  course  had  destined  that  the  uplifting  of  his  sword 
was  to  be  the  signal  of  death  to  his  very  friend.  And 
when  the  dying  Mercutio  says,  '^  Why  the  devil  came 
you  between  us?  I  was  hurt  under  your  arm,"  he  can 
only  offer  the  excuse,  which  is  always  true  and  always 
unavailing,  *'  I  thought  all  for  the  best."     .     .     . 

The  mode  of  his  death  is  chosen  by  himself,  and  in  that 
he  is  unlucky  as  in  everything  else.  Utterly  loathing 
life,  the  manner  of  his  leaving  it  must  be  instantaneous. 
He  stipulates  that  the  poison  by  which  he  shall  die  shall 
not  be  slow  of  effect.  He  leaves  himself  no  chance  of 
escape.  Instant  death  is  in  his  hand;  and  thanking  the 
true  apothecary  for  the  quickness  of  his  drugs,  he 
scarcely  leaves  himself  a  moment  with  a  kiss  to  die.  If 
he  had  been  less  in  a  hurry — if  he  had  not  felt  it  impos- 
sible to  delay  posting  off  to  Verona  for  a  single  night — 
if  his  riding  had  been  less  rapid,  or  his  medicine  less 
sudden  in  its  effect,  he  might  have  lived. 

Maginn  :  Shakespeare  Papers. 


Romeo's  is  not  an  active,  practical  nature  like  Henry 
v.;    neither  is  he  great  by  intellect,  a  thinker,  in  any 


12. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

high  sense  of  the  word.  But  if  he  Hves  and  moves  and 
has  his  being  neither  heroically  in  the  objective  world 
of  action,  Hke  Henry  V.,  nor  in  the  world  of  the  mind, 
like  Hamlet,  all  the  more  he  lives,  moves,  and  has  his 
being  in  the  world  of  mere  emotion.  To  him  emotion 
which  enriches  and  exalts  itself  with  the  imagination, 
emotion  apart  from  thought  and  apart  from  action,  is 
an  end  in  itself.  Therefore  it  delights  him  to  hover 
over  his  own  sentiment,  to  brood  upon  it,  to  feed  upon 
it  richly.  Romeo  must  needs  steep  his  whole  nature 
in  feeHng,  and,  if  Juliet  does  not  appear,  he  must  love 
Rosaline.  .  .  .  Romeo  nurses  his  love;  he  sheds 
tears;  he  cultivates  solitude;  he  utters  his  groans  in 
the  hearing  of  the  comfortable  friar;  he  stimulates  his 
fancy  with  the  sought-out  phrases,  the  curious  antitheses, 
of  the  amorous  dialect  of  the  period : — 

"  Why,  then,  O  brawling  love  !   O  loving  hate !    y 
O  anything,  of  nothing  first  create ! 
O  heavy  lightness  !    serious  vanity  ! 
Misshapen  chaos  of  well-seeming  forms ! 
Feather  of  lead,  bright  smoke,  cold  fire,  sick  health !  " 

He  broods  upon  the  luxury  of  his  sorrow.  And  then 
Romeo  meets  Juliet.  Juliet  is  an  actual  force  beyond 
and  above  himself,  a  veritable  fact  of  the  world.  Never- 
theless, there  remains  a  certain  cHnging  self-conscious- 
ness, an  absence  of  perfect  simplicity  and  directness, 
even  in  Romeo's  very  real  love  of  Juliet.  This  is  placed 
by  Shakspere  in  designed  contrast  with  the  singleness 
of  JuHet's  nature,  her  direct  unerroneous  passion,  which 
goes  straight  to  its  object,  and  never  broods  upon  itself. 
It  is  Romeo  who  says  in  the  garden  scene, 

"  How  silver-sweet  sound  lovers'  tongues  by  night. 
Like  softest  music  to  attending  ears !  " 

He  has  overheard  the  voice  of  Juliet,  and  he  cannot 
answer  her  call  imtil  he  has  drained  the  sweetness  of 
the  sound.     He  is  one  of  those  men  to  whom  the  emo- 

13 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

tional  atmosphere  which  is  g^ven  out  by  the  real  object, 
and  which  surrounds  it  Uke  a  luminous  mist,  is  more 
important  than  the  reality  itself. 

DowDEN :  Shakspere. 

IV. 

Juliet. 

Such  is  the  simphcity,  the  truth,  and  the  loveliness  of 
Juliet's  character,  that  we  are  not  at  first  aware  of  its 
complexity,  its  depth,  and  its  variety.  There  is  in  it 
an  intensity  of  passion,  a  singleness  of  purpose,  an 
entireness,  a  completeness  of  efifect,  which  we  feel  as  a 
whole;  and  to  attempt  to  analyze  the  impression  thus 
conveyed  at  once  to  soul  and  sense,  is  as  if  while  hang- 
ing over  a  half-blown  rose,  and  revelling  in  its  intoxi- 
cating perfume,  we  should  pull  it  asunder,  leaflet  by 
leaflet,  the  better  to  display  its  bloom  and  fragrance. 
.  .  .  All  Shakspeare's  women,  being  essentially 
women,  either  love  or  have  loved,  or  are  capable  of 
loving ;  but  Juliet  is  love  itself.  The  passion  is  her  state 
of  being,  and  out  of  it  she  has  no  existence.  It  is  the 
soul  within  her  soul;  the  pulse  within  her  heart;  the 
life-blood  along  her  veins,  "  blending  with  every  atom 
of  her  frame."  The  love  that  is  so  chaste  and  dignified 
in  Portia — so  airy-delicate  and  fearless  in  Miranda — so 
sweetly  confiding  in  Perdita — so  playfully  fond  in  Rosa- 
lind— so  constant  in  Imogen — so  devoted  in  Desdemona 
— so  fervent  in  Helen — so  tender  in  Viola — is  each  and 
all  of  these  in  Juliet.     .     .     . 

In  the  delineation  of  that  sentiment  which  forms  the 
groundwork  of  the  drama,  nothing  in  fact  can  equal  the 
power  of  the  picture  but  its  inexpressible  sweetness  and 
its  perfect  grace:  the  passion  which  has  taken  possession 
of  Juliet's  whole  soul  has  the  force,  the  rapidity,  the 
resistless  violence  of  the  torrent;    but  she  is  herself  as 

14 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

"  moving"  delicate,"  as  fair,  as  soft,  as  flexible  as  the 
willow  that  bends  over  it,  whose  light  leaves  tremble 
even  with  the  motion  of  the  current  which  hurries  be- 
neath them.  But  at  the  same  time  that  the  pervading- 
sentiment  is  never  lost  sight  of,  and  is  one  and  the  same 
throughout,  the  individual  part  of  the  character  in  all 
its  variety  is  developed,  and  marked  with  the  nicest 
discrimination.  For  instance,  the  simplicity  of  Juliet  is 
very  different  from  the  simplicity  of  Miranda;  her  inno- 
cence is  not  the  innocence  of  a  desert  island.  The  en- 
ergy she  displays  does  not  once  remind  us  of  the  moral 
grandeur  of  Isabel,  or  the  intellectual  power  of  Portia; 
it  is  founded  in  the  strength  of  passion,  not  in  the 
strength  of  character;  it  is  accidental  rather  than  in- 
herent, rising  with  the  tide  of  feeling  or  temper,  and 
with  it  subsiding.  Her  romance  is  not  the  pastoral 
romance  of  Perdita,  nor  the  fanciful  romance  of  Viola; 
it  is  the  romance  of  a  tender  heart  and  a  poetical  imag- 
ination. Her  inexperience  is  not  ignorance;  she  has 
heard  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  falsehood,  though  she 
can  scarcely  conceive  it.  Her  mother  and  her  nurse 
have  perhaps  warned  her  against  flattering  vows  and 
man's  inconstancy.  .  .  .  Our  impression  of  Juliet's 
loveliness  and  sensibility  is  enhanced,  when  we  find  it 
overcoming  m  the  bosom  of  Romeo  a  previous  love 
for  another.  His  visionary  passion  for  the  cold,  inac- 
cessible Rosaline,  forms  but  the  prologue,  the  threshold, 
to  the  true,  the  real  sentiment  which  succeeds  to  it» 
This  incident,  which  is  found  in  the  original  story,  has 
been  retained  by  Shakspeare  with  equal  feeling  and 
judgement;  and  far  from  being  a  fault  in  taste  and  sen- 
timent, far  from  prejudicing  us  against  Romeo,  by  cast- 
ing on  him,  at  the  outset  of  the  piece,  the  stigma  of 
inconstancy,  it  becomes,  if  properly  considered,  a  beauty 
in  the  drama,  and  adds  a  fresh  stroke  of  truth  to  the  por- 
trait of  the  lover.  Why,  after  all,  should  we  be  offended 
at  what  does  not  offend  Juliet  herself?  for  in  the  original 
story  we  find  that  her  attention  is  first  attracted  towards 

15 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Romeo,  by  seeing  him  "  fancy-sick  and  pale  of  cheer," 
for  love  of  a  cold  beauty.     .     .     . 

In  the  extreme  vivacity  of  her  imagination,  and  its 
influence  upon  the  action,  the  language,  the  sentiments 
of  the  drama,  Juliet  resembles  Portia ;  but  with  this 
striking  difference.  In  Portia,  the  imaginative  power, 
though  developed  in  a  high  degree,  is  so  equally  blended 
with  the  other  intellectual  and  moral  faculties,  that  it 
does  not  give  us  the  idea  of  excess.  It  is  subject  to  her 
nobler  reason;  it  adorns  and  heightens  all  her  feelings; 
it  does  not  overwhelm  or  mislead  them.  In  Juliet,  it  is 
rather  a  part  of  her  southern  temperament,  controlling 
and  modifying  the  rest  of  her  character;  springing  from 
her  sensibility,  hurried  along  by  her  passions,  animating 
her  joys,  darkening  her  sorrows,  exaggerating  her  ter- 
rors, and,  in  the  end,  overpowering  her  reason.  With 
Juliet,  imagination  is,  in  the  first  instance,  if  not  the 
source,  the  medium  of  passion ;  and  passion  again  kindles 
her  imagination.  It  is  through  the  power  of  imagination 
that  the  eloquence  of  Juliet  is  so  vividly  poetical;  that 
every  feeling,  every  sentiment  comes  to  her  clothed  in 
the  richest  imagery,  and  is  thus  reflected  from  her  mind 
to  ours.  The  poetry  is  not  here  the  mere  adornment, 
the  outward  garnishing  of  the  character;  but  its  result, 
or  rather  blended  with  its  essence.  It  is  indivisible  from 
it,  and  interfused  through  it  like  moonlight  through  the 
summer  air.  To  particularize  is  almost  impossible,  since 
the  whole  of  the  dialogue  appropriated  to  JuHet  is  one 
rich  stream  of  imagery.     .     .     . 

The  famous  soliloquy,  "  Gallop  apace,  ye  fiery-footed 
steeds,"  teems  with  luxuriant  imagery.  The  fond  ad- 
juration, ''Come  night!  come  Romeo!  come  thou  day  in 
night !  "  expresses  that  fulness  of  enthusiastic  admiration 
for  her  lover,  which  possesses  her  whole  soul;  but  ex- 
presses it  as  only  Juliet  could  or  would  have  expressed 
it — in  a  bold  and  beautiful  metaphor.  Let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  in  this  speech  Juliet  is  not  supposed  to  be 
addressing  an  audience,  nor  even  a  confidante;    and  I 

i6 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

confess  I  have  been  shocked  at  the  utter  want  of  taste 
and  refinement  in  those  who,  with  coarse  derision,  or 
in  a  spirit  of  prudery,  yet  more  gross  and  perverse,  have 
dared  to  comment  on  this  beautiful  "  Hymn  to  the 
Night,"  breathed  out  by  Juhet  in  the  silence  and  soHtude 
of  her  chamber.  She  is  thinking  aloud;  it  is  the  young 
heart  "  triumphing  to  itself  in  words."  In  the  midst  of 
all  the  vehemence  with  which  she  calls  upon  the  night 
to  bring  Romeo  to  her  arms,  there  is  something  so 
almost  infantine  in  her  perfect  simplicity,  so  playful  and 
fantastic  in  the  imagery  and  language,  that  the  charm 
of  sentiment  and  innocence  is  thrown  over  the  whole; 
and  her  impatience,  to  use  her  own  expression,  is  truly 
that  of  "  a  child  before  a  festival,  that  hath  new  robes 
and  may  not  wear  them."  It  is  at  the  very  moment  too 
that  her  whole  heart  and  fancy  are  abandoned  to  blissful 
anticipation,  that  the  nurse  enters  with  the  news  of 
Romeo's  banishment;  and  the  immediate  transition  from 
rapture  to  despair  has  a  most  powerful  efTect.     .     .     . 

It  is  in  truth  a  tale  of  love  and  sorrow,  not  of  anguish 
and  terror.  We  behold  the  catastrophe  afar  off  with 
scarcely  a  wish  to  avert  it.  Romeo  and  Juliet  must  die; 
their  destiny  is  fulfilled;  they  have  quaffed  off  the  cup 
of  life,  with  all  its  infinite  of  joys  and  agonies,  in  one 
intoxicating  draught.  What  have  they  to  do  more  upon 
this  earth?  Young,  innocent,  loving  and  beloved,  they 
descend  together  into  the  tomb ;  but  Shakspeare  has 
made  that  tomb  a  shrine  of  martyred  and  sainted  affec- 
tion consecrated  for  the  worship  of  all  hearts — not  a 
dark  charnel  vault,  haunted  by  spectres  of  pain,  rage, 
and  desperation.  Romeo  and  Juliet  are  pictured  lovely 
in  death  as  in  life;  the  sympathy  they  inspire  does  not 
oppress  us  with  that  suffocating  sense  of  horror  which  in 
the  altered  tragedy  makes  the  fall  of  the  curtain  a  rehef ; 
but  all  pain  is  lost  in  the  tenderness  and  poetic  beauty 
of  the  picture. 

Mrs.  Jameson  :  Characteristics  of  Women, 

17 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

V. 

Mercutio. 

These  few  lines  contain  all  that  Arthur  Brooke  pro- 
vides in  the  way  of  suggestion  of  the  character  of  Mer- 
cutio— effectually  nothing — the  scene  is  the  hall: — 

"  At  th'  one  side  of  her  chair  her  lover  Romeo, 
And  on  the  other  side  there  sate  one  called  Mercutio; 
A  courtier  that  each  where  was  highly  had  in  price, 
For  he  was  courteous  of  his  speech  and  pleasant  of  device; 
Even  as  a  lion  would  among  the  lambs  be  bold, 
Such  was  among  the  bashful  maids  Mercutio  to  behold. 
With  friendly  gripe  he  seized  fair  Juliet's  snowish  hand — 
A  gift  he  had  that  nature  gave  him  in  his  swathing-band, 
That  frozen  mountain  ice  was  never  half  so  cold 
As  were  his  hands,  though  near  the  fire  he  did  them  hold." 

Thus  far,  however,  the  contrast  with  the  grasp  of  Ro- 
meo is  continued  in  the  play,  that  jNIercutio  is  the  most 
decided  foil  to  his  more  refined  and  delicately  gifted 
spirit.  In  vivacity  and  liveliness  he  may  be  his  equal, 
and  he  is  endowed  with  an  aptness  for  excitement  and 
a  flow  of  fantastic  associations  that,  in  the  absence  of 
sentiment,  are  the  first  though  insufficient  conditions  of 
poetical  invention;  but  his  fancy  tends  to  be  overborne 
by  fluency  as  his  mirth  by  boisterousness ;  he  is  a  gay 
companion  and  a  ready  partisan,  but  lax  not  to  the  verge 
but  to  the  very  limits  of  coarseness  in  his  talk.  It  is 
this  very  characteristic  that  renders  him  indispensable, 
for  such  things  are,  and  only  by  admitting  a  glimpse 
of  them  can  art  define  their  opposites,  and  if  Mercutio, 
on  the  one  side,  and  the  old  nurse,  on  the  other,  are  to 
be  tongue-tied  where  they  would  talk  most  willingly 
and  freely,  a  glory  will  fade  from  the  angel  brightness  of 
Juliet  and  the  graceful  sprightliness  of  Romeo,  and  the 
very  ardour  of  their  wishes  run  the  risk  of  degradation 
by  the  withdrawal  of  a  background  necessary  for  guiding 
to  the  true  scale  of  intervals  and  intensities  from  best 

i8 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

to  worst.  Even  Tybalt  himself  is  scarcely  so  gratuitous 
a  brawler  as  Mercutio,  but  he  lends  a  dignity  to  his  vic- 
tim by  the  contrast  of  entire  destitution  of  finer  accom- 
plishments; he  is  a  mere  type  of  practised  aptness  for 
feuds  and  animosities.  Mercutfo  draws  from  himself  in 
his  jesting  imputation  of  quarrelsomeness  to  Benvolio, 
and  there  is  a  spirit  of  prophecy  in  his  words  that  if 
there  were  two  such  there  would  be  speedily  none — ful- 
filled when  his  slayer  Tybalt  himself  so  soon  is  slain. 
Lloyd  :  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 


In  the  fourth  scene  we  have  Mercutio  introduced  to  us. 
O  !  how  shall  I  describe  that  exquisite  ebullience  and  over- 
flow of  youthful  life,  wafted  on  over  the  laughing  waves 
of  pleasure  and  prosperity,  as  a  wanton  beauty  that 
distorts  the  face  on  which  she  knows  her  lover  is  gazing 
enraptured,  and  wrinkles  her  forehead  in  the  triumph  of 
its  smoothness!  Wit  ever  wakeful,  fancy  busy  and  pro- 
creative  as  an  insect,  courage,  an  easy  mind  that,  without 
cares  of  its  own,  is  at  once  disposed  to  laugh  away  those 
of  others,  and  yet  to  be  interested  in  them — these  and 
all  congenial  qualities,  melting  into  the  common  copula 
of  them  all,  the  man  of  rank  and  the  gentleman,  with 
all  its  excellences  and  all  its  weaknesses,  constitute  the 
character  of  Mercutio! 

Coleridge  :  Notes  and  Lectures  upon  Shakespeare. 

VL 

The  Nurse. 

The  Nurse  is  in  some  respects  another  edition  of  Mrs. 
Quickly,  though  in  a  different  binding.  The  character 
has  a  tone  of  reality  that  almost  startles  us  on  a  first 
acquaintance.  She  gives  the  impression  of  a  literal 
transcript  from  actual  life;  which  is  doubtless  owing  in 
part  to  the  predominance  of  memory  in  her  mind,  causing 

19 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

her  to  think  and  speak  of  thmgs  just  as  they  occurred; 
as  in  her  account  of  Juhet's  age,  where  she  cannot  go 
on  without  bringing  in  all  the  accidents  and  imperti- 
nences which  stand  associated  with  the  subject.  And  she 
has  a  way  of  repeating  the  same  thing  in  the  same  words, 
so  that  it  strikes  us  as  a  fact  cleaving  to  her  thoughts, 
and  exercising  a  sort  of  fascination  over  them :  it  seems 
scarce  possible  that  any  but  a  real  person  should  be  so 
enslaved  to  actual  events. 

This  general  passiveness  to  what  is  going  on  about 
her  naturally  makes  her  whole  character  ''  smell  of  the 
shop."  And  she  has  a  certain  vulgarized  air  of  rank 
and  refinement,  as  if,  priding  herself  on  the  confidence  of 
her  superiors,  she  had  caught  and  assimilated  their 
manners  to  her  own  vulgar  nature.  In  this  mixture  of 
refinement  and  vulgarity,  both  elements  are  made  the 
worse  for  being  together;  for,  like  all  those  who  ape 
their  betters,  she  exaggerates  whatever  she  copies;  or, 
borrowing  the  proprieties  of  those  above  her,  she  turns 
them  into  their  opposite,  because  she  has  no  sense  of 
propriety.  Without  a  particle  of  truth,  or  honour,  or 
delicacy;  one  to  whom  life  has  no  sacredness,  virtue  no 
beauty,  love  no  holiness ;  a  woman,  in  short,  without 
womanhood;  she  abounds,  however,  in  serviceable  qual- 
ities; has  just  that  low  servile  prudence  which  at  once 
fits  her  to  be  an  instrument,  and  makes  her  proud  to 
be  used  as  such.  Yet  she  acts  not  so  much  from  a 
positive  disregard  of  right  as  from  a  lethargy  of  con- 
science; or  as  if  her  soul  had  run  itself  into  a  sort  of 
moral  dry-rot  through  a  leak  at  the  mouth. 

Accordingly,  in  her  basest  acts  she  never  dreams  but 
that  she  is  a  pattern  of  virtue.  And  because  she  is  thus 
unconscious  and,  as  it  were,  innocent  of  her  own  vices, 
therefore  Juliet  thinks  her  free  from  them,  and  suspects 
not  but  that  beneath  her  petulant  vulgar  loquacity  she 
has  a  vein  of  womanly  honour  and  sensibility.  For  she 
has,  in  her  way,  a  real  affection  for  Juliet;  whatsoever 
would  give  pleasure  to  herself,  that  she  will  do  anything 

ao 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

to  compass  for  her  young  mistress;  and,  until  love  and 
marriage  become  the  question,  there  has  never  been 
anything  to  disclose  the  essential  oppugnancy  of  their 
natures.  When,  however,  in  her  noble  agony,  Juliet 
appeals  to  the  Nurse  for  counsel,  and  is  met  with  the 
advice  to  marry  Paris,  she  sees  at  once  what  her  soul  is 
made  of;  that  her  former  praises  of  Romeo  were  but 
the  offspring  of  a  sensual  pruriency  easing  itself  with 
talk;  that  in  her  long  life  she  has  gained  only  that  sort 
of  experience  which  works  the  debasement  of  its  pos- 
sessor; and  that  she  knows  less  than  nothing  of  love 
and  marriage,  becatise  she  has  worn  their  prerogatives 
without  any  feeling  of  their  sacredness. 

Hudson  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 

VII. 
Friar  Laurence. 

Friar  Laurence  is  full  of  goodness  and  natural  piety, 
a  monk  such  as  Spinoza  or  Goethe  would  have  loved, 
an  undogmatic  sage,  with  the  astuteness  and  benevolent 
Jesuitism  of  an  old  confessor — brought  up  on  the  milk 
and  bread  of  philosophy,  not  on  the  fiery  liquors  of 
religious  fanaticism. 

It  is  very  characteristic  of  the  freedom  of  spirit  which 
Shakespeare  early  acquired,  in  the  sphere  in  which  free- 
dom was  then  hardest  of  attainment,  that  this  monk  is 
drawn  with  so  delicate  a  touch,  without  the  smallest  ill- 
will  towards  conquered  Catholicism,  yet  without  the 
smallest  leaning  towards  Catholic  doctrine — the  eman- 
cipated creation  of  an  emancipated  poet.  The  Poet  here 
rises  immeasurably  above  his  original,  Arthur  Brooke, 
who,  in  his  naively  moralising  "Address  to  the  Reader," 
makes  the  Catholic  religion  mainly  responsible  for  the 
impatient  passion  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  the  disasters 
which  result  from  it. 

21 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

It  would  be  to  misunderstand  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
play  if  we  were  to  reproach  Friar  Laurence  with  the  not 
only  romantic  but  preposterous  nature  of  the  means  he 
adopts  to  help  the  lovers — the  sleeping-potion  adminis- 
tered to  Juliet.  This  Shakespeare  simply  accepted  from 
his  original,  with  his  usual  indifference  to  external  detail. 

The  Poet  has  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Friar  Laurence  a 
tranquil  Hfe-philosophy,  which  he  first  expresses  in  gen- 
eral terms,  and  then  appHes  to  the  case  of  the  lovers. 
He  enters  his  cell  with  a  basket  full  of  herbs  from  the 
garden.  Some  of  them  have  curative  properties,  others 
contain  death-dealing  juices;  a  plant  which  has  a  sweet 
and  salutary  smell  may  be  poisonous  to  the  taste;  for 
good  and  evil  are  but  two  sides  to  the  same  thing  (IL 
iii.):- 

"  Virtue  itself  turns  vice,  being  misapplied. 
And  vice  sometimes  's  by  action  dignified. 
Within  the  infant  rind  of  this  sweet  flower 
Poison  hath  residence,  and  medicine  power : 
For  this,  being  smelt,  with  that  part  cheers  each  part ; 
Being  tasted,  slays  all  senses  with  the  heart. 
Two  such  opposed  kmgs  encamp  them  still 
In  man  as  well  as  herbs, — grace,  and  rude  will ; 
And  where  the  worser  is  predominant, 
Full  soon  the  canker  death  eats  up  that  plant." 

When  Romeo,  immediately  before  the  marriage,  de- 
fies sorrow  and  death  in  the  speech  beginning  (II.  vi.)  : — 

"  Amen,  Amen  !  but  come  what  sorrow  can. 
It  cannot  countervail  the  exchange  of  joy 
That  one  short  minute  gives  me  in  her  sight," 

Laurence  seizes  the  opportunity  to  apply  his  view  of 
life.  He  fears  this«  overflowing  flood-tide  of  happiness, 
and  expounds  his  philosophy  of  the  golden  mean — that 
wisdom  of  old  age  which  is  summed  up  in  the  cautious 
maxim,  *'  Love  me  httle,  love  me  long."  Here  it  is  that 
he  utters  the  above-quoted  words  as  to  the  violent  ends 

22 


R0M£0  and  JULIET  Comments 

ensuing  on  violent  delights,  like  the  mutual  destruction 
wrought  by  the  kiss  of  fire  and  gunpowder. 

Brandes  :  William  Shakespeare. 

VIII. 
Paris. 

Some  critics  have  thought  the  good  Friar  a  herald  of 
the  Poet's  intentions,  through  whose  mouth  Shakspeare 
is  supposed  to  inform  us  that  his  poem  is  by  no  means  a 
'*  hymn  of  praise,"  a  *'  deification  "  of  love,  but  on  the 
contrary,  that  it  is  meant  to  show  us  that  love  is  only' 
a  "  happy  intoxication,"  only  a  "  flower  liked  for  its 
sweet  smell,  the  poison  of  which,  when  taken  as  food, 
will  work  fatally  upon  the  heart."     ,     .     . 

The  intention,  attributed  to  Shakspeare,  is  rather  to  be 
found  in  the  character  of  Count  Paris.  It  has  been 
asked,  what  need  is  there,  at  all,  for  Count  Paris  and  his 
love  affair,  and  more  particularly  for  the  fight  between 
him  and  Romeo?  It  js  said  that  his  death  by  the  hand 
of  the  latter  is  obvid£fely  quite  superfluous,  wanting  in 
motive,  and  as  meaningless  as  a  mere  sensational  scene. 
In  answer  to  this  it  might  at  once  be  said,  that  nothing 
is  superfluous  that  gives  a  clearer  insight  into  the  charac- 
ter of  the  principal  hero,  and  that  it  must  continue  to  be 
more  fully  and  definitely  unfolded  throughout  all  the 
incidents  of  the  action.  But  the  chief  reason  for  the 
death  of  the  calm,  cold,  prosaic  Count  lies  in  his  flat, 
dull  and  heartless  conception  of  love,  in  his  purposing 
to  bargain  with  the  parents  for  the  beauty  and  amiability 
of  their  daughter — without  first  consulting  the  inclina- 
tions of  her  heart — in  consideration  of  his  rank,  position 
and  untried  virtue.  This  is  why  the  divine  power  of 
love,  as  it  were,  takes  its  revenge  upon  him;  his  manner 
of  loving,  therefore,  forms  the  organic  contrast  of  Ro- 
meo's and  Juliet's  passion;  his  fate  is  meant  to  show  us 
that  the  Poet,  in  representing  the  tragic  fate  of  the  great, 

23 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

beautiful  and  poetic  passion,  had  no  idea  of  speaking  in 
behalf  of  common  prose. 

Ulrici  :  Shakspearc's  Dramatic  Art. 

IX. 
Tybalt. 

Tybalt  is  the  evil  genius  of  discord  set  over  against 
Romeo,  the  loving  and  the  beloved.  In  the  poem,  Tyb- 
alt does  not,  as  in  the  play,  figure  at  the  masquerade: 
he  is  not  even  alluded  to  as  being  there.  In  the  poem, 
a  month  or  twain  after  the  marriage  of  the  lovers,  which 
has  been  kept  a  secret,  he  attacks  Romeo  when  the  latter 
attempts  to  allay  the  strife,  simply  because  he  is  a  Mon- 
tague, not  from  any  special  offence.  But  in  the  play, 
Tybalt,  previous  to  his  fatal  encounter  with  Romeo,  is 
specially  enraged  against  him,  for  his  bold  and,  as  he 
regards  it,  insulting  intrusion  at  the  masquerade.     .     .     . 

In  the  play,  the  heat  of  the  day  on  which  Romeo  and 
Juliet  are  married  is  not  yet  over,  when  Tybalt,  brooding 
upon  the  insult  conceived  the  prions  night  at  the  ball, 
meets  with  Romeo's  friends,  i^rcutio  and  Benvolio 
(III.  i.  40).  The  personal  encounter  which  soon  fol- 
lows takes  the  place  of  the  general  fray  we  have  in  the 
poem,  a  month  or  twain  after  the  marriage.  In  com- 
paring the  play  with  the  poem,  we  are  helped  to  see,  but 
it  is  plain  to  see  without  such  outside  help,  at  what  spe- 
cial pains,  pains  which  have  gone  for  nothing  with  some 
commentators,  the  Poet  was,  to  exhibit  the  sweetly 
gentle  character  of  Romeo  (and  he  has  a  true  manly 
valor,  withal;  he's  no  coward),  and  perfectly  to  justify 
his  slaying  of  Tybalt.  There's  not  the  slightest  rash- 
ness in  the  act.  What  he  does  he  does  when  forbearance 
ceases  to  be  a  virtue.  .  .  .  Romeo  has  patiently  en- 
dured Tybalt's  treatment  of  himself,  by  reason  of  his  mar- 
riage with  Juliet,  his  love  for  her  being  reflected  upon  her 
kinsman;   but  when  his  friend  Mercutio  is  slain  in  his 

24 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

behalf,  and  the  furious  Tybalt  comes  back  again,  he 
exclaims:  "Alive!  in  triumph!  and  Mercutio  slain! 
Away  to  heaven,  respective  lenity  "  (that  is,  the  lenity  he 
has  thus  far  shown,  out  of  regard  to  his  relationship  to 
Tybalt,  by  his  marriage  with  Juliet),  "  and  fire-eyed  fury 
be  my  conduct  now"  (that  is,  conductor  or  guide)! 
"Now,  Tybalt,  take  the  villain  back  again,  that  late  thou 
gavest  me." 
Corson  :  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Shakespeare, 

X. 

The  Tragedy  of  Love. 

What  can  be  more  truthful  than  the  love  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  so  young,  so  ardent,  so  unreflecting,  full 
at  once  of  physical  passion  and  of  moral  ten- 
derness, without  restraint,  and  yet  without  coarse- 
ness, because  delicacy  of  heart  ever  combines  with  the 
transports  of  the  senses !  There,  is  nothing  subtle  or 
factitious  in  it,  and  nothing  cleverly  arranged  by  the 
Poet;  it  is  neither  the  pure  love  of  piously  exalted  imag- 
inations, nor  the  licentious  love  of  palled  and  perverted 
lives;  it  is  love  itself — love  complete,  involuntary  and 
sovereign,  as  it  bursts  forth  in  early  youth,  in  the  heart 
of  man,  at  once  simple  and  diverse,  as  God  made  it. 
Romeo  and  Juliet  is  truly  the  tragedy  of  love,  as  Othello 
is  that  of  jealousy,  and  Macbeth  that  of  ambition.  .  .  . 
Wherever  they  are  not  disfigured  by  conceits,  the  lines 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet  are  perhaps  the  most  graceful  and 
brilliant  that  ever  flowed  from  Shakspeare's  pen. 

Guizot;  Shakspeare  and  His  Times. 


Romeo  and  Juliet  is  a  picture  of  love  and  its  pitiable  fate, 
in  a  world  whose  atmosphere  is  too  sharp  for  this  the 
tenderest  blossom  of  human  life.  Two  beings  created 
for  each  other  feel  mutual  love  at  the  first  glance;  every 

25 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

consideration  disappears  before  the  irresistible  impulse 
to  live  in  one  another.  .  .  .  They  unite  themselves 
by  a  secret  marriage,  under  circumstances  in  the  highest 
degree  hostile  to  their  union,  relying  simply  on  the  pro- 
tection of  an  invisible  power.  By  unfriendly  events, 
following  blow  upon  blow,  their  heroic  constancy  is 
exposed  to  all  manner  of  trials,  till,  forcibly  separated 
from  each  other,  they  are  united  in  the  grave  to  meet 
again  in  another  world. 

All  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  beautiful  story  which 
Shakespeare  has  not  invented,  and  which,  however  sim- 
ply told,  will  always  excite  a  tender  sympathy ;  but  it  was 
reserved  for  Shakespeare  to  unite  purity  of  heart  and  the 
glow  of  imagination,  sweetness  and  dignity  of  manners, 
and  passionate  violence,  in  one  ideal  picture.  Under 
his  handling,  it  has  become  a  glorious  song  of  praise  on 
that  inexpressible  feehng  which  ennobles  the  soul  and 
gives  to  it  its  highest  sublimity,  and  which  elevates  even 
the  senses  into  soul,  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  a 
melancholy  elegy  on*its  inherent  and  imparted  frailty; 
it  is  at  once  the  apotheosis  and  the  funeral  of  love.  It 
appears  here  a  heavenly  spark  that,  descending  to  the 
earth,  is  converted  into  a  lightning-flash,  by  which  the 
mortal  being  whom  it  strikes  is  almost  in  the  same 
moment  set  on  fire  and  consumed. 

All  that  is  most  intoxicating  in  the  odour  of  a  southern 
spring,  all  that  is  languishing  in  the  song  of  the  nightin- 
gale, or  voluptuous  in  the  first  opening  of  the  rose, 
breathes  forth  from  this  poem.  But  even  more  rapidly 
than  the  earliest  blossoms  of  youth  and  beauty  decay, 
does  it  from  the  first  timidly-bold  declaration  and  modest 
return  of  love  hurry  on  to  the  most  unlimited  passion, 
to  an  irrevocable  union ;  and  then  hastens,  amidst  alter- 
nating storms  of  rapture  and  despair,  to  the  fate  of  the 
two  lovers,  who  still  appear  enviable  in  their  hard  lot,  for 
their  love  survives  them,  and  by  their  death  they  have 
obtained  an  endless  triumph  over  every  separating  power. 

ScHLEGEL :  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Literature, 

26 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

In  the  hands  of  previous  tellers  the  story  had  gathered 
one  after  another  the  motley  figures  which  compose  this 
alien  milieu: — Bandello's  Benvolio  with  his  temperate 
counsels  against  love;  Brooke's  Nurse,  with  her  vulgar 
parody  of  it;  and  now  Shakespeare's  Mercutio,  trans- 
•fixing  love  with  the  shafts  of  his  cynical  and  reckless 
wit,  a  gayer  but  not  less  effective  negation  of  romance. 
But  Shakespeare  has  made  the  other  negations  of  calm 
reason  and  of  Philistine  grossness  sharper  and  even  more 
decisive  than  he  found  them.  The  Nurse,  the  Capulet 
father  and  mother,  are  all  recognisable  in  Brooke: 
Shakespeare  alone  makes  us  feel  the  tragic  loneliness  of 
Juliet  in  their  midst;  and  that  not  less  by  his  ruthless 
insistence  on  every  mean  and  vulgar  trait  in  them,  than 
by  the  flamelike  purity  and  intensity  in  which  he  has 
invested  Juliet  herself.  Brooke's  Juliet  is  a  conventional 
heroine  of  romance,  distinguished  from  other  heroines 
only  by  the  particular  cast  of  her  experiences,  and  not 
palpably  superior  to  her  father,  whose  unreason  even 
acquires  from  Brooke's  rhetoric  a  certain  Roman  dig- 
nity of  invective.  Shakespeare's  Juhet  resembles  an 
ideal  creation  of  Raphael  or  Lionardo  environed  in  the 
bustling  domestic  scenery,  the  Flemish  plenty  and  prose, 
of  Teniers  or  Ostade.  We  are  spared  no  poignancy  of 
contrast.  The  last  rich  cadences  of  the  lovers'  dawn- 
song  die  into  the  bluster  of  old  Capulet;  and  Juhet's 
sublime  "Romeo,  I  come!"  is  immediately  succeeded 
by  the  rattling  of  keys  and  dishes,  and  cooks  calling  for 
dates  and  quinces  in  the  "  pastry." 

Thus  Shakespeare  at  once  heightened  the  tragic  an- 
tagonism of  Romeo  and  Juliet's  world  and  the  lyric 
fervour  of  passion  which  sweeps  them  athwart  it.  The 
entire  weight  of  the  tragic  effect  is  thrown  upon  the 
clashing  dissonance  of  the  human  elements.  In  this 
earliest  of  the  tragedies,  alone  among  them  all,  there  is 
no  guilt,  no  deliberate  contriving  of  harm.  Far  from 
suggesting  a  moral,  Shakespeare  seems  to  contemplate 
with  a  kind  of  fatalist  awe  the  mixture  of  elements  from 

27 


Comments  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

which  so  profound  a  convulsion  ensues.  He  eliminates 
every  pretext  for  regarding  the  catastrophe  as  a  retribu- 
tion upon  the  lovers.  Their  love  violates  no  moral  law: 
it  springs  imperiously  from  their  youth,  and  Shakespeare 
has  here  significantly  gone  beyond  his  source  and  en- 
dowed his  Juliet  with  the  single-souled  girlhood  of  four- 
teen; neither  of  them  dreams  of  any  illicit  union,  and 
their  marriage  runs  counter  only  to  the  unnatural  feud 
between  their  houses.  The  chief  agent  in  their  tragic 
doom  is  the  one  wise  and  actively  benign  character  in 
the  play.  The  imposing  figure  of  Friar  Laurence,  so 
clearly  congenial  to  the  Poet,  has  tempted  some  critics, 
like  Gervinus  and  Kreyssig,  to  regard  him  as  a  chorus. 
Juliet's  glorious  womanhood  is  the  creation  of 
her  love;  Romeo,  a  weaker  nature,  retains  more  infir- 
mity, yet  he  too  stands  out  in  heroic  stature  against  the 
suitor  par  convenance,  Paris,  and  the  quondam  wooer  of 
Rosalinde.  It  is  easy  to  dwell  upon  his  despair  at  ban- 
ishment, his  fatal  errors  of  judgement,  as  when  he  fails 
to  suspect  Hfe  in  JuHet's  still  warm  and  rosy  form.  But 
to  suppose  that  he  is  unmanned  by  his  love  of  JuUet 
contradicts  the  whole  tenour  of  Shakespeare's  implicit 
teaching.  Passion  for  a  Cressida  or  a  Cleopatra  saps 
the  nerve  of  Troilus  and  Antony ;  but  nowhere  does 
Shakespeare  represent  a  man  as  made  less  manly  by  abso- 
lute soul-service  of  a  true  woman:  rather,  this  was  a  con- 
dition of  that  "  marriage  of  true  minds  "  to  which,  in  his 
loftiest  sonnet,  he  refused  to  ''  admit  impediments." 

Herford  :  The  Eversley  Shakespeare. 


Shakespeare  did  not  intend  to  represent  more  than  a 
fragment  of  human  life  in  the  tragedy.  He  did  not  aim 
at  a  criticism  of  the  whole  of  human  character;  he  cared 
to  show  us  his  hero  and  his  heroine  only  as  lovers,  and 
as  exemplary  in  the  perfection  of  their  love;  faithful 
even  unto  death;  choosing,  with  a  final  election  of  the 
heart,  love  at  all  costs.     Here  is  no  view  of  the  whole  of 

28 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Comments 

life;  we  are  shown  merely  what  befell  a  young  pair  of 
lovers  during  four  days  long  ago  in  Verona.  But 
Shakespeare  felt,  and  we  all  feel,  that  if  such  love  as  theirs 
can  be  taken  up  into  a  complete  character,  modified  and 
controlled  by  the  other  noble  qualities  which  go  to  form 
a  large  and  generous  nature,  the  world  will  be  the  better 
for  such  pure  and  sacred  passion.  Such,  it  appears  to 
me,  are  the  ethics  of  the  play. 

And  the  personages  by  whom  the  lovers  are  encircled 
are  so  conceived  as  to  become  the  critics  of  ideal  love 
from  their  several  points  of  view,  honouring  and  exalting 
it  by  the  inadequacy  of  their  criticism.  To  old  Capulet, 
in  his  mood,  it  seems  that  the  passions  of  the  heart  are 
to  be  determined  by  parental  authority.  To  Lady  Capu- 
let marriage  is  an  alYair  of  wordly  convenience.  To  the 
Nurse  it  is  the  satisfaction  of  a  pleasurable  instinct. 
Mercutio,  a  gallant  friend,  is  too  brilliant  in  his  intellec- 
tuality to  be  capable  of  a  passion  in  which  the  heart 
shows  that  it  is  superior  to  the  brain;  he  mocks  at  love, 
not  because  he  really  scorns  it,  but  because  he  is  remote 
from  it,  and  cherishes  before  all  else  his  free-lance  liberty. 
The  Friar  views  human  passion  from  the  quietudes  of 
the  cloister,  or  from  amid  the  morning  dew  of  the  fields; 
but  botany  is  not  the  science  of  human  life.  Even 
Romeo's  earlier  self,  with  his  amorous  melancholy,  be- 
comes the  critic  of  his  later  self,  when  a  true  and  final 
election  has  been  made,  and  when  love  has  become  the 
risen  sun  of  his  day.     As  for  Juliet,  her  words — 

My  bounty  is  as  boundless  as  the  sea, 
My  love  as  deep ;  the  more  I  give  to  thee, 
The  more  I  have,  for  both  are  infinite, 

may  serve  for  an  inscription  beneath  that  statue  of  pure 
gold  of  which  Shakespeare  was  the  artist. 

DowDEN  :  Romeo  and  Juliet, 


29 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 

EscALUS,  prince  of  Verona. 

Paris,  a  young  nobleman,  kinsman  to  the  prince. 

Montague,  "1  heads  of  two  houses  at  variance  with  each 

Capulet,      J      other. 

An  old  man,  of  the  Capulet  family. 

Romeo,  son  to  Montague. 

Mercutio,  kinsman  to  the  prince,  and  friend  to  Romeo. 

Benvolio,  nephew  to  Montague,  and  friend  to  Romeo. 

Tybalt,  nephew  to  Lady  Capulet. 

Friar  Laurence,  a  Franciscan. 

Friar  John,  of  the  same  order. 

Balthasar,  servant  to  Romeo. 

Sampson,   )  ^ 

^  >■  servants  to  Capulet. 

Gregory,     ) 

Peter,  servant  to  Juliet's  nurse. 

Abraham,  servant  to  Montague. 

An  Apothecary. 

Three  Musicians. 

Page  to  Paris;  another  Page;  an  Officer. 

Lady  Montague,  wife  to  Montague. 
Lady  Capulet,  wife  to  Capulet. 
Juliet,  daughter  to  Capulet. 
Nurse  to  Juliet. 

Citizens  of  Verona;  kinsfolk  of  both  houses;  Maskers,  Guards, 
Watchmen,  and  Attendants. 

Chorus. 

Scene:    Verona;  Mantua. 


30 


The  Tragedy  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet. 

The  Prologue. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Two  households,  both  aUke  in  dignity, 

In  fair  Verona,  where  we  lay  our  scene, 
From  ancient  grudge  break  to  new  mutiny, 

Where  civil  blood  makes  civil  hands  unclean. 
From  forth  the  fatal  loins  of  these  two  foes 

A  pair  of  star-cross 'd  lovers  take  their  life  ; 
Whose  misadventured  piteous  overthrows 

Do  with  their  death  bury  their  parents'  strife. 
The  fearful  passage  of  their  death-mark'd  love, 

And  the  continuance  of  their  parents'  rage,  lo 

Which,  but  their  children's  end,  nought  could  remove, 

Is  now  the  two  hours'  traffic  of  our  stage ; 
The  which  if  you  with  patient  ears  attend, 
W^hat  here  shall  miss,  our  toil  shall  strive  to  mend. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

Verona.    A  public  place. 

Enter  Sampson  and  Gregory,  of  the  house  of  Capulet, 

zvith  szvords  and  bucklers.  ri ,  « ^ 

Sam.  Gregory,  on  my  word,  we  '11  not  carry_coals. 
Gre.  No,  for  then  we  should  be  colliers. 
Sam.  I  mean,  an  we  be  in  choler,  we  '11  draw. 

31 


Act  1.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Gre.  Ay,  while  3rou  live,  draw  your  neck  out  o'  the  collar. 
Sam.  I  strike  quickly,  being  moved. 
Gre.  But  thou  art  not  quickly  moved  to  strike. 
Sam.  A  dog  of  the  house  of  Montague  moves  me. 
Gre.  To  move  is  to  stir,  and  to  be  valiant  is  to  stand : 

therefore,  if  thou  art  moved,  thou  runn'st  awav. 
Sam.  A  dog  of  that  hou^e  shall  move  me  to  stand:     lo 

I   will   take  the  wallJ  of  any  man  or  maid  of 

Montague's. 
Gre.  That  shows  thee  a  w^eak  slave ;   for  the  weakest 

goes  to  the  wall. 
Sam.  'Tis   true;    and   therefore   women,   being   the 

weaker   vessels,    are   ever   thrust   to   the   wall: 

therefore  I  will  push  Montague's  men  from  the 

wall  and  thrust  his  maids  to  the  wall. 
Gre.  The  quarrel  is  between  our  masters  and  us  their 

men.  20 

Sam.  'Tis  all  one,  I  will  show  myself  a  tyrant :  when 

I  have  fought  with  the  men,  I  will  be  cruel  with 

the  maids ;  I  will  cut  off  their  heads. 
Gre.  The  heads  of  the  maids  ? 

Sam.  Ay,  the  heads  of  the  maids,  or  their  maiden- 
heads ;  take  it  in  what  sense  thou  wilt. 
Gi-e.  They  must  take  in  sense  that  feel  it. 
Samr.  Me  they  shall  feel  while  I  am  able  to  stand : 

and  'tis  known  I  am  a  pretty  piece  of  flesh. 
Gre.  'Tis  well  thou  art  not  fish ;   if  thou  hadst,  thou     30 

hadst  been  poor  John.     Draw  thy  tool;    here 

comes  two  of  the  house  of  ]\Iontagues. 

Enter  Abraham  and  Balthasar. 

Sam.  My  naked  weapon  is  out :  quarrel ;  I  will  back 
thee. 

32 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Gre.  How !  turn  thy  back  and  run  ? 

Sam.  Fear  me  not. 

Gre.  No,  marry ;  I  fear  thee ! 

Sam.  Let  us  take  the  law  of  our  sides;    let  them 

begin. 
Gre.  I  will  frown  as  I  pass  by,  and  let  them  take  it 

as  they  list.  40 

Sam.  Nay,  as  they  dare.     I  will  bite  my  thumb  at 

them;    which   is   a   disgrace   to   them,    if   they 

bear  it. 
Ahr,  Do  you  bite  your  thumb  at  us,  sir? 
Sam.  I  do  bite  my  thumb,  sir. 
Ahr.  Do  you  bite  your  thumb  at  us,  sir? 
Sam.  [Aside  to  Ore]  Is  the  law  of  our  side,  if  I  say  ay  ? 
Gre.  No. 
Sam.  No,  sir,  I  do  not  bite  my  thumb  at  you,  sir; 

but  I  bite  my  thumb,  sir.  50 

Gre.  Do  you  quarrel,  sir  ? 
Abr.  Quarrel,  sir!  no,  sir. 
Sam.  But  if  you  do,  sir,  I  am  for  you:   I  serve  as 

good  a  man  as  you. 
Abr.  No  better. 
Sam.  Well,  sir. 


Enter  Benvolio. 


// 


Gre.   [Aside  tc  Sam.]   Say  '  better  ' :   here  comes  one 

of  my  master's  kinsmen. 
Sam.  Yes,  better,  sir. 
Abr.  You  lie.  60 

Sam.  Draw,  if  you  be  men.     Gregory,  remember  thy 

swashing  blow.  [They  fight. 

Ben.  Part,  fools !  [Beating  down  their  zveapons. 

Put  up  your  swords  ;  you  know  not  what  you  do. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Enter  Tybalt. 

Tyb.  What,  art  thou  drawn  among  these  heartless  hinds  ? 

Turn  thee,  BenvoHo,  look  upon  thy  death. 
Ben.  I  do  but  keep  the  peace :  put  up  thy  sword. 

Or  manage  it  to  part  these  men  with  me. 
Tyb.  What,  drawn,  and  talk  of  peace !  I  hate  the  word,- 

As  I  hate  hell,  all  Montagues,  and  thee :  70 

Have  at  thee,  coward !  [They  fight. 

Enter  several  of  both  houses,  who  join  the  fray;  then 
enter  Citizens^  and  Peace-officers,  zvith  clubs^        ^  j 

First  Off.  Clubs,  DuTs/an'J  partisans !'  strike!  bea^Tmem' 
down!         '"  ifij^^/jLdk. 

Down  with  the  Capulets  !  down  with  the  Montagues ! 

Enter  old  Capidet  in  his  gozvn,  and  Lady  Capidet. 

Cap.  What  noise  is  this  ?    Give  me  my  long  sword,  ho ! 
La.  Cap.  A  crutch,  a  crutch  !  why  call  you  for  a  sword  ? 
Cap.  My  sword,  I  say !    Old  Montague  is  come, 
And  flourishes  his  blade  in  spite  of  me. 

Enter  old  Montague  and  Lady  Montague, 

Mon.  Thou  villain  Capulet ! — Hold  me  not,  let  me  go. 
La.  Mon.  Thou  shalt  not  stir  one  foot  to  seek  a  foe. 

Enter  Prince  Escalus,  with  his  train. 

Prin.  Rebellious  subjects,  enemies  to  peace,  80 

Profaners  of  this  neighbour-stained  steel, — 
Will  they  not  hear  ?    What,  ho !  you  men,  you  beasts, 
That  quench  the  fire  of  your  pernicious  rage 
With  purple  fountains  issuing  from  your  veins, 

34 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

On  pain  of  torture,  from  those  bloody  hands 

Throw  your  mistemper'd  weapons  to  the  ground, 

And  hear  the  sentence  of  your  moved  prince. 

Three  civil  brawls,  bred  of  an  airy  word, 

By  thee,  old  Capulet,  and  Montague, 

Have  thrice  disturb'd  the  quiet  of  our  streets,         90 

And  made  Verona's  ancient  citizens 

Cast  by  their  grave  beseeming  ornaments. 

To  wield  old  partisans,  in  hands  as  old, 

Canker'd  with  peace,  to  part  your  canker'd  hate: 

If  ever  you  disturb  our  streets  again. 

Your  lives  shall  pay  the  forfeit  of  the  peace. 

For  this  time,  all  the  rest  depart  away : 

You,  Capulet,  shall  go  along  with  me ; 

And,  Montague,  come  you  this  afternoon. 

To  know  our  farther  pleasure  in  this  case,  100 

To  old  Free-town,  our  common  judgement-place. 

Once  more,  on  pain  of  death,  all  men  depart. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Montague,  Lady  Montague, 
and  Benvolio. 

Man.  Who  set  this  ancient  quarrel  new  abroach? 
Speak,  nephew,  were  you  by  when  it  began? 

Ben,  Here  were  the  servants  of  our  adversary 
And  yours  close  fighting  ere  I  did  approach : 
.   I  drew  to  part  them :   in  the  instant  came 
The  fiery  Tybalt,  with  his  sword  prepared ; 
Which,  as  he  breathed  defiance  to  my  ears. 
He  swung  about  his  head,  and  cut  the  winds,         1 10 
Who,  nothing  hurt  withal,  hiss'd  him  in  scorn : 
While  we  were  interchanging  thrusts  and  blows, 
Came  more  and  more,  and  fought  on  part  and  part, 
Till  the  prince  came,  who  parted  eithe^  part. 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

La.  Mon.  O,  where  is  Romeo?  saw  you  him  to-day? 
Right  glad  I  am  he  was  not  at  this  fray. 

Ben,  Madam,  an  hour  before  the  worshipped  sun 
Peer'd  forth  the  golden  window  of  the  east, 
A  troubled  mind  drave  me  to  walk  abroad ; 
Where,  underneath  the  grove  of  sycamore  T20 

That  westward  rooteth  from  the  city's  side. 
So  early  walking  did  I  see  your  son : 
Towards  him  I  made ;   but  he  was  ware  of  me, 
And  stole  into  the  covert  of  the  wood : 
I,  measuring  his  atfecHons  by  my  own. 
Which  then  most  sought  where  most  might  not  be 

found, 
Being  one  too  many  by  my  weary  self. 
Pursued  my  humour,  not  pursuing  his. 
And  gladly  shunn'd  who  gladly  fled  from  me. 

Mon.  Many  a  morning  hath  he  there  been  seen,  130 

With  tears  augmenting  the  fresh  morning's  dew. 
Adding  to  clouds  more  clouds  with  his  deep  sighs : 
But  alFso  soon  as  the  all-cheering  sun 
Should  in  the  farthest  east  begin  to  draw 
The  shady  curtains  from  Aurora's  bed. 
Away  from  light  steals  home  my  heavy  son, 
And  private  in  his  chamber  pens  himself. 
Shuts  up  his  windows,  locks  fair  daylight  out^ 
And  makes  himself  an  artificial  night : 
Black  and  portentous  must  this  humour  prove,      140 
Unless  good  counsel  may  the  cause  remove. 

Ben.  My  noble  uncle,  do  you  know  the  cause  ? 

Mon,  I  neither  know  it  nor  can  learn  of  him. 

Ben.  Have  you  im.portuned  him  by  any  means? 

Mon.  Both  by  myself  and  many  other  friends : 

Z6 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

But  he,  his  own  affections'  counsellor, 

Is  to  himself — I  will  not  say  how  true — 

But  to  himself  so  secret  and  so  close. 

So  far  from  sounding  and  discovery, 

As  is  the  bud  bit  with  an  envious  worm,  150 

Ere  he  can  spread  his  sweet  leaves  to  the  air, 

Or  dedicate  his  beauty  to  the  sun. 

Could  we  but  learn  from  whence  his  sorrows  grow, 

We  would  as  willingly  give  cure  as  know. 

Enter  Romeo. 

Ben.  See,  where  he  comes  :  so  please  you  step  aside, 

I  '11  know  his  grievance,  or  be  much  denied. 
Man.  I  would  thou  wert  so  happy  by  thy  stay. 

To  hear  true  shrift.     Come,  madam,  let 's  away. 

[Exeunt  Montague  and  Lady. 
Ben.  Good  morrow,  cousin. 
Rom.  Is  the  day  so  young? 

Ben.  But  new  struck  nine. 
Ronv.  Ay  me !   sad  hours  seem  long. 

Was  that  my  father  that  went  hence  so  fast?         161 
Ben.  It  w^as.     W^hat  sadness  lengthens  Romeo's  hours  ? 
Rom.  Not  having  that  which,  having,  makes  them  short. 
Ben.  In  love? 
Rom.  Out — 
Ben.  Of  love? 

Rom.  Out  of  her  favour,  where  I  am  in  love. 
Ben.  Alas,  that  love,  so  gentle  in  his  view. 

Should  be  so  tyrannous  and  rough  in  proof ! 
Rom.  Alas,  that  love,  whose  view  is  muffled  still,         170 

Should  without  eyes  see  pathways  to  his  will ! 

Where  shall  we  dine  ?     O  me !  What  fray  was  here  ? 

Z7 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Yet  tell  me  not,  for  I  have  heard  it  all. 

Here  's  much  to  do  with  hate,  but  more  with  love : 

Why,  then,  O  brawling  love!     O  loving  hate! 

O  any  thing,  of  nothing  first  create ! 

O  heavy  lightness  !   serious  vanity ! 

Mis-shapen  chaos  of  well-seeming  forms! 

Feather  of  lead,  bright  smoke,  cold  fire,  sick  health ! 

Still-waking  sleep,  that  is  not  what  it  is!  i8o 

This  love  feel  I,  that  feel  no  love  in  this. 

Dost  thou  not  laugh? 
Ben.  No,  coz,  I  rather  weep. 

Rom.  Good  heart,  at  what? 

Ben.  At  thy  good  heart's  oppression. 

Rom.  Why,  such  is  love's  transgression. 

Griefs  of  mine  own  lie  heavy  in  my  breast  ; 

Which  thou  wilt  propagate,  to  have  it  prest 

With  more  of  thine :  this  love  that  thou  hast  shown 

Doth  add  more  grief  to  too  much  of  mine  own. 

Love  is  a  smoke  raised  with  the  fume  of  sighs  ; 

Being  purged,  a  fire  sparkling  in  lovers'  eyes ;         190 

Being  vex'd,  a  sea  nourish'd  with  lovers'  tears : 

What  is  it  else?  a  madness  most  discreet, 

A  choking  gall  and  a  preserving  sweet. 

Farewell,  my  coz.  ' 

Ben,  Soft !  I  will  go  along : 

An  if  you  leave  me  so,  you  do  me  wrong. 
Rom.  Tut,  I  have  lost  myself ;  I  am  not  here ; 

This  is  not  Romeo,  he  's  some  other  where. 
Ben.  Tell  me  in  sadness,  who  is  that  you  love? 
Rom.  What,  shall  I  groan  and  tell  thee? 
Ben.  Groan!   why,  no; 

But  sadly  tell  me  who.  200 

38 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Rom,  Bid  a  sick  man  in  sadness  make  his  will. 
Ah,  word  ill  urged  to  one  that  is  so  ill ! 
In  sadness,  cousin,  I  do  love  a  woman. 

Ben,  I  aim'd  so  near  when  I  supposed  you  loved. 

Rom,  A  right  good  mark-man !    And  she  's  fair  I  love. 

Ben.  A  right  fair  mark,  fair  coz,  is  soonest  hit. 

Rom.  Well,  in  that  hit  you  miss  :  she  '11  not  be  hit 
With  Cupid's  arrow ;  she  hath  Dian's  wit, 
And  in  strong  proof  of  chastity  well  arm'd. 
From  love's  weak  childish  bow  she  lives  unharmM. 
She  will  not  stay  the  siege  of  loving  terms,  21 1 

Nor  bide  the  encounter  of  assailing  eyes. 
Nor  ope  her  lap  to  saint-seducing  gold : 
O,  she  is  rich  in  beauty,  only  poor 
That,  when  she  dies,  with  beauty  dies  her  store. 

Ben.  Then  she  hath  sworn  that  she  will  still  live  chaste  ? 

Rom.  She  hath,  and  in  that  sparing  makes  huge  waste ; 
For  beauty,  starved  with  her  severity, 
Cuts  beauty  off  from  all  posterity. 
She  is  too  fair,  too  wise,  wisely  too  fair,  220 

To  merit  bliss  by  making  me  despair : 
She  hath  forsworn  to  love ;  and  in  that  vow 
Do  I  live  dead,  that  live  to  tell  it  now. 

Ben.  Be  ruled  by  me,  forget  to  think  of  her. 

Rom.  O,  teach  me  how  I  should  forget  to  think. 

Ben.  By  giving  liberty  unto  thine  eyes ; 
Examine  other  beauties. 

Rom.  'Tis  the  way 

To  call  hers,  exquisite,  in  question  more : 
These  happy  masks  that  kiss  fair  ladies'  brows, 
Being  black,  put  us  in  mind  they  hide  the  fair ;        230 
He  that  is  strucken  blind  cannot  forget 

39 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

The  precious  treasure  of  his  eyesight  lost : 
Show  me  a  mistress  that  is  passing  fair, 
What  doth  her  beauty  serve  but  as  a  note 
Where  I  may  read  who  pass'd  that  passing  fair  ? 
Farewell :  thou  canst  not  teach  me  to  forget. 
Ben.  I  '11  pay  that  doctrine,  or  else  die  in  debt.      [Exeunt 

Scene  IL 

A  street. 
Enter  Capulet,  Paris,  and  Servant. 

Cap.  But  Montague  is  bound  as  well  as  I, 

In  penalty  alike ;   and  'tis  not  hard,  I  think, 
For  men  so  old  as  we  to  keep  the  peace. 

Par.  Of  honourable  reckoning  are  you  both ; 
And  pity  'tis  you  lived  at  odds  so  long. 
But  now,  my  lord,  what  say  you  to  my  suit? 

Cap.  But  saying  o'er  what  I  have  said  before : 
My  child  is  yet  a  stranger  in  the  world ; 
She  hath  not  seen  the  change  of  fourteen  years : 
Let  two  more  summers  wither  in  their  pride  lo 

Ere  we  may  think  her  ripe  to  be  a  bride. 

Par.  Younger  than  she  are  happy  mothers  made. 

Cap.  And  too  soon  marr'd  are  those  so  early  made. 
The  earth  hath  swallow'd  all  my  hopes  but  she, 
She  is  the  hopeful  lady  of  my  earth  : 
But  woo  her,  gentle  Paris,  get  her  heart  ; 
My  will  to  her  consent  is  but  a  part ; 
An  she  agree,  within  her  scope  of  choice 
Lies  my  consent  and  fair  according  voice. 
This  night  I  hold  an  old  accustom'd  feast,  20 

Whereto  I  have  invited  many  a  guest, 
40 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Such  as  I  love ;   and  you  among  the  store, 
One  more,  most  welcome,  makes  my  number  more. 
At  my  poor  house  look  to  behold  this  night 
Earth-treading  stars  that  make  dark  heaven  light : 
Such  comfort  as  do  lusty  young  men  feel 
When  well-appareird  April  on  the  heel 
Of  limping  winter  treads,  even  such  delight 
Among  fresh  female  buds  shall  you  this  night 
Inherit  at  my  house  ;  hear  all,  all  see,  30 

And  like  her  most  whose  merit  most  shall  be  : 
I  Which  on  more  view,  of  many  mine  being  one 
I  May  stand  in  number,  though  in  reckoning  none. 
Come,  go  with  me.     Go,  sirrah,  trudge  about 
Through  fair  Verona;    find  those  persons  out 
Whose  names  are  written  there,  and  to  them  say, 
My  house  and  welcome  on  their  pleasure  stay. 

[Exeunt  Cap  11  let  and  Paris. 
Serv.  Find  them  out  whose  names  are  written  here ! 
It  is  written  that  the  shoemaker  should  meddle 
with  his  yard  and  the  tailor  with  his  last,  the     40 
fisher  with  his  pencil  and  the  painter  with  his 
nets ;   but  I  am  sent  to  find  those  persons  whose 
names  are  here  writ,  and  can  never  find  what 
names   the   writing   person   hath   here   writ.     I 
must  to  be  learned.     In  good  time. 

Enter  Benvolio  and  Romeo. 

Ben.  Tut,  man,  one  fire  burns  out  another's  burning. 

One  pain  is  lessen'd  by  another's  anguish ; 
Turn  giddy,  and  be  holp  by  backward  turning ; 

One  desperate  grief  cures  with  another's  languish : 
Take  thou  some  new  infection  to  thy  eye,  50 

41 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  the  rank  poison  of  the  old  will  die. 
Rom.  Your  plantain-leaf  is  excellent  for  that. 
Ben.  For  what,  I  pray  thee  ? 

Rom.  For  your  broken  shin. 

Ben.  Why,  Romeo,  art  thou  mad  ? 
Rom.  Not  mad,  but  bound  more  than  a  madman  is ; 

Shut  up  in  prison,  kept  without  my  food, 

Whipt  and  tormented  and — God-den,  good  fellow. 
Serv.  God  gi'  god-den.     I  pray,  sir,  can  you  read? 
Rom,  Ay,  mine  own  fortune  in  my  misery. 
Serv,  Perhaps  you  have  learned  it  without  book :  but,     60 

I  pray,  can  you  read  anything  you  see? 
Rom.  Ay,  if  I  know  the  letters  and  the  language. 
Serv.  Ye  say  honestly :   rest  you  merry ! 
Rom.  Stay,  fellow;   I  can  read.  [Reads. 

*  Signior  Martino  and  his  wife  and  daughters ; 
County  Anselme  and  his  beauteous  sisters ;  the 
lady  widow  of  Vitruvio;  Signior  Placentio  and 
his  lovely  nieces ;  Mercutio  and  his  brother 
Valentine;  mine  uncle  Capulet,  his  wife,  and 
daughters ;  my  fair  niece  Rosaline ;  Livia ;  70 
Signior  Valentio  and  his  cousin  Tybalt;  Lucio 
and  the  lively  Helena.' 

A  fair  assembly :   whither  should  they  come  ? 
Serv,  Up. 
Rom.  Whither? 

Serv,  To  supper ;   to  our  house. 
Rom,  Whose  house? 
Serv,  My  master's. 

Rom,  Indeed,  I  should  have  ask'd  you  that  before. 
Serv,  Now  I  '11  tell  you  without  asking :  my  master     80 

42 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  lii. 

is  the  great  rich  Capulet ;  and  if  you  be  not  of 
the  house  of  Montagues,  I  pray,  come  and  crush 
a  cup  of  wine.     Rest  you  merry !  [Exit. 

Ben.  At  this  same  ancient  feast  of  Capulet's 
Sups  the  fair  RosaUne  whom  thou  so  lovest, 
With  all  the  admired  beauties  of  Verona : 
Go  thither,  and  with  unattainted  eye 
Compare  her  face  with  some  that  I  shall  show,  ^^^j^^^^^^ 
And  I  will  make  thee  think  thy  swan  a  crow.     a.M'tSiuS*  \  ^ 

Rom.  When  the  devout  religion  of  mine  eye  90 

Maintains  such  falsehood,  then  turn  tears  to  fires  ; 
And  these,  who,  often  drown'd,  could  never  die, 
Transparent  heretics,  be  burnt  for  liars  ! 
One  fairer  than  my  love !  the  all-seeing  sun 
Ne'er  saw  her  match  since  first  the  world  begun. 

Ben.  Tut,  you  saw  her  fair,  none  else  being  by, 
Herself  poised  with  herself  in  either  eye : 
Eut  in  that  crystal  scales  let  there  be  weigh' d 
Your  lady's  love  against  some  other  maid, 
That  I  will  show  you  shining  at  this  feast,  100 

And  she  shall  scant  show  well  that  now  seems  best. 

Rom.  I  '11  go  along,  no  such  sight  to  be  shown. 

But  to  rejoice  in  splendour  of  mine  own.        [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

A  room  in  Capulet's  house. 

Enter  Lady  Capulet  and  Nurse. 

La.  Cap.  Nurse,  where  's  my  daughter  ?   call  her  forth  to 

me. 
Nurse.  Now,  by  my  maidenhead  at  twelve  year  old, 

43 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

I  bade  her  come.    What,  lamb  !  what,  lady-bird ! — 
God  forbid ! — Where  's  this  girl  ?  What,  Juliet ! 

Enter  Juliet. 

Jul.  How  now !  who  calls  ? 

Nurse.  Your  mother. 

Jul.  Madam,  I  am  here.     What  is  your  will? 

La.  Cap.  This  is  the  matter.    Nurse,  give  leave  awhile, 
We  must  talk  in  secret : — nurse,  come  back  again ; 
I  have  remember'd  me,  thou  's  hear  our  counsel.     lo 
Thou  know'st  my  daughter  's  of  a  pretty  age. 

Nurse.  Faith,  I  can  tell  her  age  unto  an  hour. 

La.  Cap.  She  's  not  fourteen. 

Nurse.  I  '11  lay  fourteen  of  my  teeth, — 

And  yet,  to  my  teen  be  it  spoken,  I  have  but  four, — 
She  is  not  fourteen.    How  long  is  it  now 
To  Lammas-tide? 

La.  Cap.  A  fortnight  and  odd  days. 

Nurse.  Even  or  odd,  of  all  days  in  the  year. 

Come  Lammas-eve  at  night  shall  she  be  fourteen. 
Susan  and  she — God  rest  all  Christian  souls ! — 
■  Were  of  an  age :  well,  Susan  is  with  God ;  20 

She  was  too  good  for  me : — but,  as  I  said. 
On  Lammas-eve  at  night  shall  she  be  fourteen ; 
That  shall  she,  marry ;   I  remember  it  well. 
'Tis  since  the  earthquake  now  eleven  years ; 
And  she  was  wean'd, — I  never  shall  forget  it — 
Of  all  the  days  of  the  year,  upon  that  day : 
For  I  had  then  laid  wormwood  to  my  dug. 
Sitting  in  the  sun  under  the  dove-house  wall ; 
My  lord  and  you, were  then  at  Mantua: — 
Nay,  I  do  bear  a  brain : — but,  as  I  said, 

44 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

When  it  did  taste  the  wormwood  on  the  nipple      30 

Of  my  dug,  and  felt  it  bitter,  pretty  fool, 

To  see  it  tetchy,  and  fall  out  with  the  dug ! 

Shake,  quoth  the  dove-house :   'twas  no  need,  I  trow. 

To  bid  me  trudge. 

And  since  that  time  it  is  eleven  years ; 

For  then  she  could  stand  high-lone  ;  nay,  by  the  food, 

She  could  have  run  and  waddled  all  about; 

For  even  the  day  before,  she  broke  her  brow : 

And  then  my  husband, — God  be  with  his  soul ! 

K*H\^as  a  merry  man — took  up  the  child :  40 

'  Yea,'  quoth  he,  '  dost  thou  fall  upon  thy  face? 

Thou  wilt  fall  backward  when  thou  hast  more  wit ; 

Wilt  thou  not,  Jule  ?  '  and,  by  my  holidame, 

The  pretty  wretch  left  crying,  and  said  '  Ay/ 

To  see  now  how  a  jest  shall  come  about! 

I  warrant,  an  I  should  live  a  thousand  years, 

I  never  should  forget  it :  *  Wilt  thou  not,  Jule?'  quoth 

he; 
And,  pretty  fool,  it  stinted,  and  said  '  Ay/ 

La.  Cap.  Enough  of  this ;   I  pray  thee,  hold  thy  peace. 

Nurse.  Yes,  madam :   yet  I  cannot  choose  but  laugh,     50 
To  think  it  should  leave  crying,  and  say  '  Ay  ' : 
And  yet,  I  warrant,  it  had  upon  it  brow 
A  bump  as  big  as  a  young  cockerel-'s  stone ; 
A  perilous  knock ;   and  it  cried  bitterly  : 
*  Yea,'  quoth  my  husband,  '  fall'st  upon  thy  face? 
Thou  wilt  fall  backward  when  thou  comest  to  age ; 
Wilt  thou  not,  Jule  ?  '   it  stinted,  and  said  '  Ay.' 

Jul.  And  stint  thou  too,  I  pray  thee,  nurse,  say  I. 

Nurse.  Peace,  I  have  done.     God  mark  thee  to  his  grace  ! 
Thou  wast  the  prettiest  babe  that  e'er  I  nursed :      60 

45 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

An  I  might  live  to  see  thee  married  once, 
I  have  my  wish. 

La.  Cap.  Marry,  that '  marry  '  is  the  very  theme 
I  came  to  talk  of.     Tell  me,  daughter  Juliet, 
How  stands  your  disposition  to  be  married? 

Jul.  It  is  an  honour  that  I  dream  not  of. 

Nurse.  An  honour !   were  not  I  thine  only  nurse, 

I  would  say  thou  hadst  suck'd  wisdom  from  thy  teat. 

La.  Cap.  Well,  think  of  marriage  now ;  younger  than  you 
Here  in  Verona,  ladies  of  esteem,  70 

Are  made  already  mothers.     By  my  count, 
I  was  your  mother  much  upon  these  years 
That  you  are  now  a  maid.    Thus  then  in  brief ; 
The  valiant  Paris  seeks  you  for  his  love. 

Nurse.  A  man,  young  lady !   lady,  such  a  man 
As  all  the  world — why,  he 's  a  man  of  wax. 

La.  Cap.  Verona's  summer  hath  not  such  a  flower. 

Nurse.  Nay,  he  's  a  flower ;  in  faith,  a  very  flower. 

La.  Cap.  What  say  you  ?   can  you  love  the  gentleman  ? 
This  night  you  shall  behold  him  at  our  feast :  80 

Read  o'er  the  volume  of  young  Paris'  face. 
And  find  delight  writ  there  with  beauty's  pen ; 
Examine  every  married  lineament. 
And  see  how  one  another  leads  content ; 
And  what  obscured  in  this  fair  volume  lies 
Find  written  in  the  margent  of  his  eyes. 
This  precious  book  of  love,  this  unbound  lover, 
To  beautify  him,  only  lacks  a  cover : 
The  fish  lives  in  the  sea ;  and  'tis  much  pride 
For  fair  without  the  fair  within  to  hide :  90 

That  book  in  many's  eyes  doth  share  the  glory. 
That  in  gold  clasps  locks  in  the  golden  story : 
46 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

So  shall  you  share  all  that  he  doth  possess, 
By  having  him  making  yourself  no  less. 

Nurse.  No  less !  nay,  bigger :   women  grow  by  men. 

La.  Cap.  Speak  briefly,  can  you  like  of  Paris'  love? 

Jul.  I  '11  look  to  like,  if  looking  liking  move :  J 

But  no  more  deep  will  I  endart  mine  eye 
Than  your  consent  gives  strength  to  make  it  fly.  | 

Enter  a  Servingman. 

Serv.  Madam,  the  guests  are  come,  supper  served  lOO 
up,  you  called,  my  young  lady  asked  for,  the 
nurse  cursed  in  the  pantry,  and  everything  in 
extremity.     I  must  hence  to  wait ;  I  beseech  you, 
follow  straight. 
La.  Cap.  We  follow  thee.  [Exit  Servingman.']  Juliet, 

the  county  stays. 
Nurse.  Go,  girl,  seek  happy  nights  to  happy  days. 

{Exeunt. 

Scene  IV. 

A  street. 

Enter  Romeo,  Mercutio,  Benvolio,  with  Hve  or  six 
other  Maskers,  and  Torch-hearers. 

Rom.  What,  shall  this  speech  be  spoke  for  our  excuse  ? 
Or  shall  we  on  without  apology? 

Ben.  The  date  is  out  of  such  prolixity : 

We  '11  have  no  Cupid  hoodwink'd  with  a  scarf. 
Bearing  a  Tartar's  painted  bow  of  lath, 
Scaring  the  ladies  like  a  crow-keeper ; 
Nor  no  without-book  prologue,  faintly  spoke 
After  the  prompter,  for  our  entrance : 

47 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

But,  let  them  measure  us  by  what  they  will, 

We  '11  measure  them  a  measure,  and  be  gone.  lo 

4j^tD      Rom.  Give  me  a  torch :   I  am  not  for  this  ambling ; 
jTMvMf^'' '    Being  but  heavy,  I  will  bear  the  light. 
SLv«i^.«i|^r.  Nay,  gentle  Romeo,  we  must  have  you  dance. 
Oc^^       Rom.  Not  I,  believe  me :  you  have  dancing  shoes 

With  nimble  soles :   I  have  a  soul  of  lead 

So  stakes'  me  to  the  ground,  I  cannot  move. 
Mer.  You  are  a  lover;  borrow  Cupid's  wings, 

And  soar  with  them  above  a  common  bound. 
Rom.  I  am  too*  sore  enpierced  with  his  shaft 

To  soar  with  his  light  feathers,  and  so  bound,  20 

I  cannot  bound  a  pitch  above  dull  woe : 

Under  love's  heavy  burthen  do  I  sink. 
Me7\  And,  to  sink  in  it,  should  you  burthen  love  ; 

Too  great  oppression  for  a  tender  thing. 
Rom.  Is  love  a  tender  thing?   it  is  too  rough, 

Too  rude,  too  boisterous,  and  it  pricks  like  thorn. 
Mer.  If  love  be  rough  with  you,  be  rough  with  love ; 

Prick  love  for  pricking,  and  you  beat  love  down. 

Give  me  a  case  to  put  my  visage  in  : 

A» visor  for  a  visor!   what  care  I  30 

What  curious  eye  doth  quote  deformities  ? 

Here  are  the  beetle-brows  shall  blush  for  me. 
Ben.  Come,  knock  and  enter,  and  no  sooner  in 

But  every  man  betake  him  to  his  legs. 
Ro7n.  A  torch  for  me :  let  wantons  light  of  heart 

Tickle  the  senseless  rushes  with  their  heels ; 

For  I  am  proverb'd  with  a  grandsire  phrase ; 

I  '11  be  a  candle-holder,  and  look  on. 

The  game  was  ne'er  so  fair,  and  I  am  done. 
Mer,  Tut,  duh  's  tlie  mouse^  the  constable's  own  word : 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

If  thou  art  dun,  we  '11  draw  thee  from  the  mire      41 

Of  this  sir-reverence  love,  wherein  thou.stick'stj  > 

Up  to  the  ears.    Come,  we  burn  dayli^iffio.'  Y^-o^^  ^y"^* 

Rom.  Nay,  that 's  not  so.  """'^ '  ^^NX^'in- 

Mer,  i  mean,  sir,  m  delay  ' 

We  waste  our  lights  in  vain,  like  lamps  by  day.       ,  ^        Kl^-l^ 
Take  our  good  meaning,  for  our  judgement  sits       '''^\ 
Five  times  in  that  ere  once  in  our  five  wits. 

Rom.  And  we  mean  well,  in  going  to  this  mask ; 
But  'tis  no  wit  to  go. 

Mer.  Why,  may  one  ask? 

Rom.  I  dreamt  a  dream  to-night. 

Mer.  And  so  did  I.  50 

Rom.  Well,  what  was  yours? 

Mer.  That  dreamers  often  lie. 

Rom.  In  bed  asleep,  while  they  do  dream  things  true^ 

Mer.  O,  then,  I  see  Queen  Mab  hath  been  with  youT 
She  is  the  fairies'  midwife,  and  she  comes  ,  ../    . 
In  shape  no  bigger  than  an  agate-stone^^  ^  '^  ^"^^^^  4^  i^u^ 


On  the  fore-finger  p£  an  alderman,  '^jf—- <^^^  ^^— - 

Drawn  with  a  teammttle  atomies         ^^^  "^  """^ 

Athwart  men's  noses  as  they  lie  asleep : 

Her  waggon-spokes  made  of  long  spinners'  legs ; 

The  cover,  of  the  wings  of  grasshoppers ;  60 

Her  traces,  of  the  smallest  spider's  web  ; 

Her  collars,  of  the  moonshine's  watery  beams ; 

Her  whip  of  cricket's  bone ;  the  lash,  of  film ; 

Her  waggoner,  a  small  grey-coated  gnat,  l^j^^^^xy^  \,o 

Not  half  so  big  as  a  round  little  worm  //.uo-.h^^^.^-^  xVv-o^-t^ 

Prick'd  from  the  lazy  finger  of  a  maid:'  "^J^LjoJi  QG»-^^^'^*^ 

Her  chariot  is  an  empty  hazel-nut,  ^,^slx.jul^^jlsS>  u3«sju.-ax^ 

Made  by  the  joiner  squirrel  or  old  grub,  '^  ^^^^  y^^K^  w^- 

49 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Time  out  o'  mind  the  fairies'  coachmakers. 
AndrTnTTIiis  state  she  gallops  night  by  night  70 

Through  lovers'  brains,  and  then  they  dream  of  love ; 
O'er  courtiers' knees,  that  dream  on  court'sies  straight; 
O'er  lawyers'  fingers,  who  straight  dream  on  fees ; 
O'er  ladies'  lips,  who  straight  on  kisses  dream, 
Which  oft  the  angry  Mab  with  blisters  plagues 
Because  their  breaths  with  sweetmeats  tainted  are : 
Sometimes  she  gallops  o'er  a  courtier's  nose, 
And  then  dreams  he  of  smelling  out  a  suit; 
And  sometime  comes  she  with  a  tithe-pig's  tail 
Tickling  a  parson's  nose  as  a'  lies  asleep,  80 

Then  dreams  he  of  another  benefice  : 
Sometime  she  driveth  o'er  a  soldier's  neck. 
And  then  dreams  he  of  cutting  foreign  throats. 
Of  breaches,  ambuscadoes,  Spanish  blades, 
Of  healths  five  fathom  deep ;  and  then  anon 
Drums  in  his  ear,  at  which  he  starts  and  wakes, 
And  being  thus  frighted  swears  a  prayer  or  two. 
And  sleeps  again.    This  is  that  very  Mab 
That  plats  the  manes  of  horses  in  the  night. 
And  bakes  the  elf-lock  in  foul  sluttish  hairs,  90 

Which  once  untangled  much  misfortune  bodes : 
This  is  the  hag,  wdien  maids  lie  on  their  backs, 
That  presses  them  and  learns  them  first  to  bear, 
Making  them  women  of  good  carriage : 
This  is  she — 

Rom.  Peace,  peace,  Mercutio,  peace ! 

Thou  talk'st  of  nothing. 

Mer.  True,  I  talk  of  dreams ; 

Which  are  the  children  of  an  idle  brain. 
Begot  of  nothing  but  vain  fantasy, 
50 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Which  is  as  thin  of  substance  as  the  air, 

And  more  inconstant  than  the  wind,  who  wooes     loo 

Even  now  the  frozen  bosom  of  the  north. 

And,  being  anger'd,  puffs  away  from  thence. 

Turning  his  face  to  the  dew-dropping  south. 
Ben.  This  wind  you  talk  of  blows  us  from  ourselves  ; 

Supper  is  done,  and  we  shall  come  too  late. 
Rom.  I  fear,  too  early :  for  my  mind  misgives 

Some  consequence,  yet  hanging  in  the  stars. 

Shall  bitterly  begin  his  fearful  date 

With  this  night's  revels,  and  expire  the  term 

Of  a  despised  life  closed  in  my  breast,  I  lo 

By  some  vile  forfeit  of  untimely  death  : 

But  He,  that  hath  the  steerage  of  my  course, 

Direct  my  sail !     On,  lusty  gentlemen. 
Ben.  Strike,  drum.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V. 

A  hall  in  Capulefs  house. 
Musicians  waiting.    Enter  Servingmen,  with  napkins. 

First  Serv.  Where  's  Potpan,  that  he  helps  not  to  take 
away  ?  he  shift  a  trencher !  he  scrape  a  trencher ! 

Sec.  Serv.  When  good  manners  shall  lie  all  in  one  or 
two  men's  hands,  and  they  unwashed  too,  'tis  a 

foul  thins:.  .-    .    -LA.    '«*--»- 

'='  (V)  M^'  «i&«^ 

First  Serv.  Away  with  the  joint-stools,  remove  the^     S<j37ut*-fl 

"■court-cu^bo^rd,  look  to  the  plate.     Good  thou,    ^     ■fAXL^uW- 

save  me  a  piece  of  marchpane ;    and,  as  thou  \     -   ^ 

lovest  me,  let  the  porter  let  in  Susan  Grindstone  '-*- 

and  Nell.    Antony,  and  Potpan!  lo    ,        -^ 

Sec.  Serv.  Ay,  boy,  ready.  ^^^^j^-^ 

51 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

First  Serv.  You  are  looked  for  and  called  for,  asked 
for  and  sought  for,  in  the  great  chamber. 

Third  Serv.  We  cannot  be  here  and  there  too.  Cheerly, 
boys ;  be  brisk  a  while,  and  the  longer  liver  take 
all.  [They  retire  behind. 

Enter  Capnlet,  with  Juliet  and  others  of  his  house, 
meeting  the  Guests  and  Maskers. 

Cap,  Welcome,  gentlemen !  ladies  that  have  their  toes 
Unplagued  with  corns  will  have  a  bout  with  you : 
Ah  ha,  my  mistresses !  which  of  you  all 
Will  now  deny  to  dance  ?    She  that  rnakes  dainty,  20 
She,  I  '11  swear,  hath  corns;  am  I  come'TieaKye  now ? 
Welcome,  gentlemen !   I  have  seen  the  day 
That  I  have  worn  a  visor,  and  could  tell 
A  whispering  tale  in  a  fair  lady's  ear. 
Such  as  would  please :   'tis  gone,  'tis  gone,  'tis  gone : 
You  are  welcome,  gentlemen !  Come,  musicians,  play. 
A  hall,  a  hall !  give  room !  and  foot  it,  girls. 

[Music  plays,  and  they  dance. 
More  Hght,  you  knaves ;  and  turn  the  tables  up, 
And  quench  the  fire,  the  room  is  grown  too  hot. 
Ah,  sirrah,  this  unlook'd-for  sport  comes  well.       30 
Nay,  sit,  nay,  sit,  good  cousin  Capulet; 
For  you  and  I  are  past  our  dancing  days : 
How  long  is  't  now  since  last  yourself  and  I 
Were  in  a  mask  ? 

Sec.  Cap.  By  'r  lady,  thirty  years. 

Cap.  What,  man !  'tis  not  so  much,  'tis  not  so  much : 
'Tis  since  the  nuptial  of  Lucentio, 
Come  Pentecost  as  quickly  as  it  Will, 
.  Some  five  and  twenty  years ;  and  then  we  mask'd. 

52 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Sec.  Cap.  'Tis  more,  'tis  more :  his  son  is  elder,  sir ; 

His  son  is  thirty. 
Cap.  Will  you  tell  me  that?  40 

His  son  was  but  a  ward  two  years  ago. 
Rom,   [To  a  Serz'ingman]  What  lady's  that,  which  doth 
enrich  the  hand 

Of  yonder  knight? 
Sen/.  I  know  not,  sir. 
Rom.  O,  she  doth  teach  the  torches  to  burn  bright ! 

It  seems  she  hangs  upon  the  cheek  of  night 

Like  a  rich  jewel  in  an  Ethiop's  ear; 

Beauty  too  rich  for  use,  for  earth  too  dear ! 

So  shows  a  snowy  dove  trooping  with  crows. 

As  yonder  lady  o'er  her  fellows  shows.  50 

The  measure  done,  I  '11  watch  her  place  of  stand, 

And,  touching  hers,  make  blessed  my  rude  hand. 

Did  my  heart  love  till  now  ?  forswear  it,  sight ! 

For  I  ne'er  saw  true  beauty  till  this  night. 
Tyb.  This,  by  his  voice,  should  be  a  Montague. 

P  etch  me  my  rapier,  boy.    What  dares  the  slave 

Come  hither,  cover'd  with  an  antic  face. 

To  fleer  and  scorn  at  our  solemnity  ? 

Now,  by  the  stock  and  honour  of  my  kin, 

To  strike  him  dead  I  hold  it  not  a  sin.  60 

Cap.  Why,  how  now,  kinsman !  wherefore  storm  you  so  ? 
Tyb.  Uncle,  this  is  a  Montague,  our  foe ; 

A  villain,  that  is  hither  come  in  spite, 

To  scorn  at  our  solemnity  this  night. 
Cap.  Young  Romeo  is  it  ? 

Tyb.      .  'Tis  he,  that  villain  Romeo.  , 

Cap.  d^nf*ee:ten^^''coz,  let  him  alone,   -  L._^   VV^£^^ 

He  bears'  him  like  a  portly  gentleman ;      A.A-^j^^ia-a^^*-''^ 

53  3^^=^*-^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And,  to  say  truth,  Verona  brags  of  him 
To  be  a  virtuous  and  well-govern'd  youth : 
I  would  not  for  the  weaUh  of  all  this  town  70 

Here  in  my  house  do  him  disparagement : 
Therefore  be  patient,  take  no  note  of  him : 
It  is  my  will,  the  which  if  thou  respect, 
Show  a  fair  presence  and  put  off  these  frowns, 
An  ill-beseeming  semblance  for  a  feast. 
Tyb.  It  fits,  when  such  a  villain  is  a  guest : 

I  '11  not  endure  him. 
Cap.  He  shall  be  endured : 

fj^j, ,  Qjii^ '        /What,^oodrnan  boy !    I  say,  he  shall :   go  to ; 

(yj^'^^^^y^  AmTthe  master  here,  or  you?  go  to. 

i^^^i^"^;^      You  '11  not  endure  him !    God  shall  mend  my  soul, 

?^     -'s.^-         ^*-^^  '^^  SS;^^  ^■^}^^'^Py.  ^ong  my  guests !  81 

^J^  You_j^m^f  cock-a-hobp!  you  '11  be  the  man! 

"^        Tyb.  Why,  uncle,  'tis  a  shame. 

Cap.  Go  to,  go  to ; 

You  are  a  saucy  boy :   is  't  so,  indeed  ? 

This  trick  may  chance  to  scathe  you,  I  know  what : 

You  must  c(intrarytn^ei  marry,  tis  time. 

Well  said,  my  hearts  !     You  are  a  princox  ;  go : 

Be  quiet,  or —  More  light,  more  light !    For  shame ! 

I  '11  make  you  quiet.    What,  cheerly,  my  hearts ! 
Tyb.  Patience  perforce  with  wilful  choler  meeting        90 

Makes  my  flesh  tremble  In  their  different  greeting. 

I  will  withdraw :  but  this  Intrusion  shall. 

Now  seeming  sweet,  convert  to  bitterest  gall.     [Exit. 
Rom.  [To  Juliet]  If  I  profane  with  my  unworthiest  hand 
This  holy  shrine,  the  gentle  fine  Is  this. 

My  lips,  two  blushing  pilgrims,  ready  stand 
To  smooth  that  rough  touch  with  a  tender  kiss. 

54 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Jul.  Good  pilgrim,  you  do  wrong  your  hand  too  much, 
Which  mannerly  devotion  shows  in  this ; 

For  saints  have  hands  that  pilgrims'  hands  do  touch, 
And  palm  to  palm  is  holy  palmers'  kiss.  loi 

Rom,  Have  not  saints  lips,  and  holy  palmers  too? 
Jul.  Ay,  pilgrim,  lips  that  they  must  use  in  prayer. 
Rom.  O,  then,  dear  saint,  let  lips  do  what  hands  do ; 

They  pray,  grant  thou,  lest  faith  turn  to  despair. 
Jul.  Saints  do  not  move,  though  grant  for  prayers'  sake. 
Rom.  Then  move  not,  while  my  prayer's  effect  I  take. 

Thus  from  my  lips  by  thine  my  sin  is  purged. 

[Kissing  her. 
Jul.  Then  have  my  lips  the  sin  that  they  have  took. 
Rom.  Sin  from  my  lips  ?    O  trespass  sweetly  urged !     no 

Give  me  my  sin  again. 
Jul.  You  kiss  by  the  book. 

Nurse.  Madam,  your  mother  craves  a  word  with  you. 
Rom.  What  is  her  mother? 
Nurse.  Marry,  bachelor, 

Her  mother  is  the  lady  of  the  house. 

And  a  good  lady,  and  a  wise  and  virtuous  : 

I  nursed  her  daughter,  that  you  talk'd  withal ; 

I  tell  you,  he  that  can  lay  hold  of  her 

Shall  have  the  cfe'nks:' ^  i 
Rom.  Is  she  a  Capulet? 

0  dear  account !  my  life  is  my  foe's  debt. 

Ben.  Away,  be  gone ;  the  sport  is  at  the  best.  120 

Rom.  Ay,  so  I  fear ;  the  more  is  my  unrest. 
Cap.  Nay,  gentlemen,  prepare  not  to  be  gone ; 

We  have  a  trifling  foolish  banquet  towards. 

Is  it  e'en  so  ?  why,  then,  I  thank  you  all ; 

1  thank  you,  honest  gentlemen ;  good  night. 

55 


Act  II.  Prologue  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

More  torches  here !   Come  on  then,  let 's  to  bed. 

Ah,  sirrah,  by  my  fay,  it  waxes  late : 

I  11  to  my  rest.  [Exeunt  all  but  Juliet  and  Nurse. 

Jul.  Come  hither,  nurse.     What  is  yond  gentleman? 
Nurse.  The  son  and  heir  of  old  Tiberio.  130 

Jul.  What 's  he  that  now  is  going  out  of  door  ? 
Nurse.  Marry,  that,  I  think,  be  young  Petruchio. 
Jul.  What 's  he  that  follows  there,  that  would  not  dance? 
Nurse.  I  know  not. 
Jul.  Go  ask  his  name.     If  he  be  married. 

My  grave  is  like  to  be  my  wedding  bed. 
Nurse.  His  name  is  Romeo,  and  a  ^lontague. 

The  only  son  of  your  great  enemy. 
Jul.  My  only  love  sprung  from  my  only  hate ! 

Too  early  seen  unknown,  and  known  too  late!       140 

Prodigious  birth  of  love  it  is  to  me, 

That  I  must  love  a  loathed  enemy. 
Nurse.  What 's  this  ?  what 's  this  ? 
Jul.  A  rhyme  I  learn'd  even  now 

Of  one  I  danced  withal.     [One  calls  within  '  JuHet.' 
Nurse.  Anon,  anon ! 

Come  let 's  away ;  the  strangers  all  are  gone. 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Prologue. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Now  old  desire  doth  in  his  death-bed  lie, 
And  young  affection  gapes  to  be  his  heir ; 
That  fair  for  which  love  groan'd  for  and  would  die, 
With  tender  JuHet  match'd,  is  now  not  fair. 

56 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Now  Romeo  is  beloved  and  loves  again, 

Alike  bewitched  by  the  charm  of  looks, 
But  to  his  foe  supposed  he  must  complain, 

And  she  steal  love's  sweet  bait  from  fearful  hooks : 
Being  held  a  foe,  he  may  not  have  access 

To  breathe  such  vows  as  lovers  used  to  swear ;  lo 
And  she  as  much  in  love,  her  means  much  less 

To  meet  her  new  beloved  any  where: 
But  passion  lends  them  power,  time  means,  to  meet. 
Tempering  extremities  with  extreme  sweet.       [Exit. 

Scene  I. 

A  lane  by  the  zvall  of  Capulefs  orchard. 

Enter  Romeo,  alone. 

Rom.  Can  I  go  forward  when  my  heart  is  here? 
Turn  back,  dull  earth,  and  find  thy  centre  out. 

[He  climbs  the  wall,  and  leaps  down  within  it. 

Enter  Benvolio  with  Mercutio. 

Ben.  Romeo!  my  cousin  Romeo! 

Mer.  He  is  wise  ; 

And,  on  my  life,  hath  stol'n  him  home  to  bed. 
Ben.  He  ran  this  way,  and  leap'd  this  orchard  wall : 

Call,  good  Mercutio. 
Mer.  Nay,  I  '11  conjure  too. 

Romeo !   humours  !   madman  !   passion  !   lover ! 

Appear  thou  in  the  likeness  of  a  sigh  : 

Speak  but  one  rhyme,  and  I  am  satisfied ; 

Cry  but  '  ay  me !  '  pronounce  but  '  love  '  and  *  dove  ' ; 

Speak  to  my  gossip  Venus  one  fair  word,  1 1 

One  nick-name  for  her  purblind  son  and  heir, 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Young  Adam  Cupid,  he  that  shot  so  trim 

When  King  Cophetua  loved  the  beggar-maid ! 

He  heareth  not,  he  stirreth  not,  he  moveth  not ; 

The  ape  is  dead,  and  I  must  conjure  him. 

I  conjure  thee  by  Rosahne's  bright  eyes, 

By  her  high  forehead  and  her  scarlet  lip, 

By  her  fine  foot,  straight  leg  and  quivering  thigh. 

And  the  demesnes  that  there  adjacent  lie,  20 

That  in  thy  likeness  thou  appear  to  us ! 

Ben.  An  if  he  hear  thee,  thou  wilt  anger  him. 

Mer.  This  cannot  anger  him :  'twould  anger  him 
To  raise  a  spirit  in  his  mistress'  circle 
Of  some  strange  nature,  letting  it  there  stand 
Till  she  had  laid  it  and  conjured  it  down ; 
That  were  some  spite :  my  invocation 
Is  fair  and  honest,  and  in  his  mistress'  name 
I  conjure  only  but  to  raise  up  him. 

Ben.  Come,  he  hath  hid  himself  among  these  trees,       30 
To  be  consorted  with  the  humorous  night : 
Blind  is  his  love,  and  best  befits  the  dark. 

Mer.  If  love  be  blind,  love  cannot  hit  the  mark. 
Kow  will  he  sit  under  the  medlar-tree. 
And  wish  his  mistress  were  that  kind  of  fruit 
As  maids  call  medlars  when  they  laugh  alone. 
O,  Romeo,  that  she  were,  O,  that  she  were 
An  open  et  cetera,  thou  a  poperin  pear ! 
Romeo,  good  night :  I  '11  to  my  truckle-bed ; 
This  field-bed  is  too  cold  for  me  to  sleep :  40 

Come,  shall  we  go  ? 

Ben.  Go  then,  for  'tis  in  vain 

To  seek  him  here  that  means  not  to  be  found. 

[Exeunt 

58 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Scene  II. 

Capulefs  orchard. 
Enter  Romeo. 

Rom.  He  jests  at  scars  that  never  felt  a  wound. 

[Juliet  appears  above  at  a  window. 
But,  soft !  what  Hght  through  yonder  window  breaks  ? 
It  is  the  east,  and  Juliet  is  the  sun ! 
Arise,  fair  sun,  and  kill  the  envious  moon, 
Who  is  already  sick  and  pale  with  grief. 
That  thou  her  maid  are  far  more  fair  than  she : 
'  Be  not  her  maid,  since  she  is  envious ; 
Her  vestal  livery  is  but  sick  and  green, 
And  none  but  fools  do  wear  it ;   cast  it  off. 
It  is  my  lady  ;   O,  it  is  my  love !  lo 

O,  that  she  knew  she  were ! 
She  speaks,  yet  she  says  nothing :  what  of  that  ? 
Her  eye  discourses,  I  will  answer  it. 
I  am  too  bold,  'tis  not  to  me  she  speaks : 
Two  of  the  fairest  stars  in  all  the  heaven. 
Having  some  business,  do  intreat  her  eyes 
To  twinkle  in  their  spheres  till  they  return. 
What  if  her  eyes  were  there,  they  in  her  head? 
The  brightness  of  her  cheek  would  shame  those  stars. 
As  daylight  doth  a  lamp ;  her  eyes  in  heaven  20 

Would  through  the  airy  region  stream  so  bright 
That  birds  would  sing  and  think  it  were  not  night. 
See,  how  she  leans  her  cheek  upon  her  hand ! 
O,  that  I  were  a  glove  upon  that  hand. 
That  I  might  touch  that  cheek ! 

Jul.  Ay  me! 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Rom.  She  speaks: 

O,  speak  again,  bright  angel !   for  thou  art 
As  glorious  to  this  night,  being  o'er  my  head, 
As  is  a  winged  messenger  of  heaven 
Unto  the  white-upturned  wondering  eyes 
Of  mortals  that  fall  back  to  gaze  on  him,  30 

When  he  bestrides  the  lazy-pacing  clouds 
And  sails  upon  the  bosom  of  the  air.  _ 

JuL  O  Romeo,  Romeo !  wherefore  art  thou  Romeo  ? 
Deny  thy  father  and  refuse  thy  name ; 
Or,  if  thou  wilt  not,  be  but  sworn  my  love. 
And  I  '11  no  longer  be  a  Capulet. 

Rom.   {Aside']   Shall  I  hear  more,  or  shall  I  speak  at  this  ? 

Jul.  'Tis  but  thy  name  that  is  my  enemy ; 

Thou  art  thyself,  though  not  a  Montague. 

What 's  Montague  ?  it  is  nor  hand,  nor  foot,  40 

Nor  arm,  nor  face,  nor  any  other  part 

Belonging  to  a  man.     O,  be  some  other  name ! 

What 's  in  a  name  ?   that  which  we  call  a  rose 

By  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet ; 

So  Romeo  would,  were  he  not  Romeo  call'd. 

Retain  that  dear  perfection  which  he  owes 

Without  that  title.     Romeo,  doff  thy  name. 

And  for  thy  name,  which  is  no  part  of  thee, 

Take  all  myself. 

Rom.  I  take  thee  at  thy  word : 

Call  me  but  love,  and  I  '11  be  new  baptized ;  50 

Henceforth  I  never  will  be  Romeo. 

Jul.  What  man  art  thou,  that,  thus  bescreen'd  in  night, 
So  stumblest  on  my  counsel  ? 

Rom.  By  a  name 

I  know  not  how  to  tell  thee  who  I  am : 
60 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

My  name,  dear  saint,  is  hateful  to  myself, 

Because  it  is  an  enemy  to  thee ; 

Had  I  it  written,  I  would  tear  the  word. 

Jul.  My  ears  have  yet  not  drunk  a  hundred  words 
Of  thy  tongue's  uttering,  yet  I  know  the  sound : 
Art  thou  not  Romeo,  and  a  Montague  ?  60 

Rom.  Neither,  fair  maid,  if  either  thee  dislike. 

Jul.  How  camest  thou  hither,  tell  me,  and  wherefore? 
The  orchard  walls  are  high  and  hard  to  climb. 
And  the  place  death,  considering  who  thou  art, 
If  any  of  my  kinsmen  find  thee  here. 

Rom.  With  love's  light  wings  did  I  o'er-perch  these  walls, 
For  stony  limits  cannot  hold  love  out : 
And  what  love  can  do,  that  dares  love  attempt ; 
Therefore  thy  kinsmen  are  no  let  to  me. 

Jul.  If  they  do  see  thee,  they  will  murder  thee.  70 

Rom.  Alack,  there  lies  more  peril  in  thine  eye 

Than  twenty  of  their  swords  :  look  thou  but  sweet, 
And  I  am  proof  against  their  enmity. 

Jul.  I  would  not  for  the  world  they  saw  thee  here. 

Rom.  I  have  night's  cloak  to  hide  me  from  their  eyes ; 
And  but  thou  love  me,  let  them  find  me  here : 
My  life  were  better  ended  by  their  hate. 
Than  death  prorogued,  wanting  of  thy  love. 

Jul.  By  whose  direction  found'st  thou  out  this  place  ? 

Rom.  By  love,  that  first  did  prompt  me  to  inquire ;         80 
He  lent  me  counsel,  and  I  lent  him  eyes. 
I  am  no  pilot ;  yet,  wert  thou  as  far 
As  that  vast  shore  wash'd  with  the  farthest  sea, 
I  would  adventure  for  such  merchandise. 

Jul.  Thou  know'st  the  mask  of  night  is  on  my  face. 
Else  would  a  maiden  blush  bepaint  my  cheek 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

For  that  which  thou  hast  heard  me  speak  to-night. 

Fain  would  I  dwell  on  form,  fain,  fain  deny 

What  I  have  spoke :  but  farewell  compliment ! 

Dost  thou  love  me  ?  I  know  thou  wilt  say  '  Ay,*     90 

And  1  will  take  thy  word :  yet,  if  thou  swear'st, 

Thou  mayst  prove  false:   at  lovers'  perjuries, 

They  say,  Jove  laughs.    O  gentle  Romeo, 

If  thou  dost  love,  pronounce  it  faithfully: 

Or  if  thou  think'st  I  am  too  quickly  won, 

I  '11  frown  and  be  perverse  and  say  thee  nay, 

So  thou  wilt  woo ;  but  else,  not  for  the  world. 

In  truth,  fair  Montague,  I  am  too  fond ; 

And  therefore  thou  mayst  think  my  'haviour  light : 

But  trust  me,  gentleman,  I  '11  prove  more  true       100 

Than  those  that  have  more  cunning  to  be  strange. 

I  should  have  been  more  strange,  I  must  confess, 

But  that  thou  overheard'st,  ere  I  was  ware. 

My  true  love's  passion :   therefore  pardon  me, 

And  not  impute  this  yielding  to  light  love. 

Which  the  dark  night  hath  so  discovered. 

Rom.  Lady,  by  yonder  blessed  moon  I  swear. 

That  tips  with  silver  all  these  fruit-tree  tops, — 

Jul  O,  swear  not  by  the  moon,  th'  inconstant  moon, 

That  monthly  changes  in  her  circled  orb,  1 10 

Lest  that  thy  love  prove  likewise  variable. 

Rom.  What  shall  I  swear  by  ? 

Jul.  Do  not  swear  at  all ; 

Or,  if  thou  wilt,  swear  by  thy  gracious  self, 
Which  is  the  god  of  my  idolatry. 
And  I  '11  believe  thee. 

Rom.  If  my  heart's  dear  love — 

Jul,  Well,  do  not  swear:  although  I  joy  in  thee, 

62 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

I  have  no  joy  of  this  contract  to-night: 
It  is  too  rash,  too  unadvised,  too  sudden, 
Too  hke  the  hghtning,  which  doth  cease  to  be 
Ere  one  can  say  '  It  Hghtens.'    Sweet,  good  night ! 
This  bud  of  love,  by  summer's  ripening  breath,       121 
May  prove  a  beauteous  flower  when  next  we  meet. 
Good  night,  good  night !   as  sweet  repose  and  rest 
Come  to  thy  heart  as  that  within  my  breast ! 

Rom.  O,  wilt  thou  leave  me  so  unsatisfied  ? 

Jul,  What  satisfaction  canst  thou  have  to-night  ? 

Rom.  The  exchange  of  thy  love's  faithful  vow  for  mine. 

Jul.  I  gave  thee  mine  before  thou  didst  request  it : 
And  yet  I  would  it  were  to  give  again. 

Rom.  Wouldst  thou  withdraw  it  ?  for  what  purpose,  love  ? 

Jul.  But  to  be  frank,  and  give  it  thee  again.  131 

And  yet  I  wish  but  for  the  thing  I  have : 
My  bounty  is  as  boundless  as  the  sea. 
My  love  as  deep ;  the  more  I  give  to  thee, 
The  more  I  have,  for  both  are  infinite. 
I  hear  some  noise  within ;  dear  love,  adieu  ! 

[Nurse  calls  within. 
Anon,  good  nurse !    Sweet  Montague,  be  true. 
Stay  but  a  little,  I  will  come  again.  \Exit. 

Rom.  O  blessed,  blessed  night !     I  am  afeard. 

Being  in  night,  all  this  is  but  a  dream,  140 

Too  flattering-sweet  to  be  substantial. 

Re-enter  Juliet,  above. 

Jul.  Three  words,  dear  Romeo,  and  good  night  indeed. 
If  that  thy  bent  of  love  be  honourable. 
Thy  purpose  marriage,  send  me  word  to-morrow, 
By  one  that  I  '11  procure  to  come  to  thee, 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Where  and  what  time  thou  wilt  perform  the  rite, 

And  all  my  fortunes  at  thy  foot  I  '11  lay, 

And  follow  thee  my  lord  throughout  the  world. 
Nurse.  [Within^  Madam! 
Jul.  I  come,  anon. — But  if  thou  mean'st  not  well,        150 

I  do  beseech  thee — 
Nurse.  [Within]  Madam! 
Jul.  By  and  by,  I  come : — 

To  cease  thy  suit,  and  leave  me  to  my  grief : 

To-morrow  will  I  send. 
Rom.  So  thrive  my  soul, — 

Jul.  A  thousand  times  good  night !  [Exit. 

Rom.  A  thousand  times  the  worse,  to  want  thy  light. 

Love  goes  toward   love,   as   schoolboys   from   their 
books. 

But  love  from  love,  toward  school  with  heavy  looks. 

[Retiring  slowly. 

Re-enter  Juliet,  above. 

Jul.  Hist !   Romeo,  hist ! — O,  for  a  falconer's  voice, 

To  lure  this  tassel-gentle  back  again !  160 

Bondage  is  hoarse,  and  may  not  speak  aloud; 

Else  would  I  tear  the  cave  where  Echo  lies. 

And  make  her  airy  tongue  more  hoarse  than  mine. 

With  repetition  of  my  Romeo's  name. 

Romeo ! 

Rom.  It  is  my  soul  that  calls  upon  my  name : 

How  silver-sweet  sound  lovers'  tongues  by  night, 
Like  softest  music  to  attending  ears ! 

Jul.  Romeo! 

Rom.  My  dear? 

Jul.  At  what  o'clock  to-morrow 

64 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Shall  I  send  to  thee? 

Rom.  At  the  hour  of  nine. 

Jul.  I  will  not  fail :   'tis  twenty  years  till  then.  170 

I  have  forgot  why  I  did  call  thee  back. 

Rom.  Let  me  stand  here  till  thou  remember  it. 

Jul.  I  shall  forget,  to  have  thee  still  stand  there, 
Remembering  how  I  love  thy  company. 

Rom.  And  I  '11  still  stay,  to  have  thee  still  forget, 
Forgetting  any  other  home  but  this. 

Jul.  'Tis  almost  morning ;   I  would  have  thee  gone : 
And  yet  no  farther  than  a  wanton's  bird, 
Who  lets  it  hop  a  little  from  her  hand, 
Like  a  poor  prisoner  in  his  twisted  gyves,  180 

And  with  a  silk  thread  plucks  it  back  again, 
So  loving- jealous  of  his  liberty. 

Rom.  I  would  I  were  thy  bird. 

Jul.  Sweet,  so  would  I : 

Yet  I  should  kill  thee  with  much  cherishing. 
Good  night,  good  night !  parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow 
That  I  shall  say  good  night  till  it  be  morrow.     [Exit. 

Rom.  Sleep  dwell  upon  thine  eyes,  peace  in  thy  breast ! 
Would  I  were  sleep  and  peace,  so  sweet  to  rest ! 
Hence  will  I  to  my  ghostly  father's  cell,  189 

His  help  to  crave  and  my  dear  hap  to  tell.  [Exit. 

Scene  III. 

Friar  Laurence's  cell. 

Enter  Friar  Laurence,  with  a  basket. 

Fri.  L.  The  grey-eyed  mom  smiles  on  the  frowning  night. 
Chequering  the  eastern  clouds  with  streaks  of  light; 
And  flecked  darkness  like  a  drunkard  reels 

65 


Act  II  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

From  forth  day's  path  and  Titan's  fiery  wheels : 

Now,  ere  the  sun  advance  his  burning  eye, 

The  day  to  cheer  and  night's  dank  dew  to  dry, 

I  must  up-fill  this  osier  cage  of  ours 

With  baleful  weeds  and  precious- juiced  flowers. 

The  earth  that 's  nature's  mother  is  her  tomb ; 

What  is  her  burying  grave,  that  is  her  womb :  lo 

And  from  her  womb  children  of  divers  kind 

We  sucking  on  her  natural  bosom  find, 

Many  for  many  virtues  excellent, 

None  but  for  some,  and  yet  all  different. 

O,  mickle  is  the  powerful  grace  that  lies 

In  herbs,  plants,  stones,  and  their  true  qualities : 

For  nought  so  vile  that  on  the  earth  doth  live, 

But  to  the  earth  some  special  good  doth  give ; 

Nor  aught  so  good,  but,  strain'd  from  that  fair  use. 

Revolts  from  true  birth,  stumbling  on  abuse:        20 

Virtue  itself  turns  vice,  being  misapplied. 

And  vice  sometime  's  by  action  dignified. 

Within  the  infant  rind  of  this  small  flower 

Poison  hath  residence,  and  medicine  power : 

For  this,  being  smelt,  with  that  part  cheers  each  part, 

Being  tasted,  slays  all  senses  with  the  heart. 

Two  such  opposed  kings  encamp  them  still 

In  man  as  well  as  herbs,  grace  and  rude  will ; 

And  where  the  worser  is  predominant, 

Full  soon  the  canker  death  eats  up  that  plant.        30 

Enter  Romeo. 

Rom.  Good  morrow,  father. 

Fri.  L.  Benedicite! 

What  early  tongue  so  sweet  saluteth  me? 
66 


( 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Young  son,  it  argues  a  distemper'd  head 

So  soon  to  bid  good  morrow  to  thy  bed : 

Care  keeps  his  watch  in  every  old  man's  eye, 

And  where  care  lodges,  sleep  will  never  lie ; 

But  where  unbruised  youth  with  unstuff'd  brain 

Doth  couch  his  limbs,  there  golden  sleep  doth  reign : 

Therefore  thy  earliness  doth  me  assure 

Thou  art  up-roused  by  some  distemperature ;  40 

Or  if  not  so,  then  here  I  hit  it  right, 

Our  Romeo  hath  not  been  in  bed  to-night. 

Rom.  That  last  is  true ;  the  sweeter  rest  was  mine. 

Fri.  L.  God  pardon  sin!   wast  thou  with  Rosaline? 

Rom.  With  Rosaline,  my  ghostly  father?  no; 

I  have  forgot  that  name  and  that  name's  woe. 

Fri.L.  That's  my  good  son  :  but  where  hast  thou  been  then? 

Rom.  I  '11  tell  thee  ere  thou  ask  it  me  again. 
I  have  been  feasting  with  mine  enemy ; 
Where  on  a  sudden  one  hath  wounded  me,  50 

That 's  by  me  wounded :  both  our  remedies 
Within  thy  help  and  holy  physic  lies : 
I  bear  no  hatred,  blessed  man,  for,  lo, 
My  intercession  likewise  steads  my  foe. 

Fri.  L.  Be  plain,  good  son,  and  homely  in  thy  drift ; 
Riddling  confession  finds  but  riddling  shrift. 

Rom.  Then  plainly  know  my  heart's  dear  love  is  set 
On  the  fair  daughter  of  rich  Capulet : 
As  mine  on  hers,  so  hers  is  set  on  mine ; 
And  all  combined,  save  what  thou  must  combine     60 
By  holy  marriage :  when,  and  where,  and  how, 
We  met,  we  woo'd  and  made  exchange  of  vow, 
I  '11  tell  thee  as  we  pass ;  but  this  I  pray, 
That  thou  consent  to  marry  us  to-day. 

67 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Fri.  L.  Holy  Saint  Francis,  what  a  change  is  here! 
Is  Rosaline,  that  thou  didst  love  so  dear. 
So  soon  forsaken  ?  young  men's  love  then  lies 
Not  truly  in  their  hearts,  but  in  their  eyes. 
Jesu  Maria,  what  a  deal  of  brine 
Hath  wash'd  thy  sallow  cheeks  for  Rosaline !  70 

How  much  salt  water  thrown  away  in  waste, 
To  season  love,  that  of  it  doth  not  taste ! 
The  sun  not  yet  thy  sighs  from  heaven  clears, 
Thy  old  groans  ring  yet  in  mine  ancient  ears ; 
Lo,  here  upon  thy  cheek  the  stain  doth  sit 
Of  an  old  tear  that  is  not  wash'd  off  yet : 
If  e'er  thou  wast  thyself  and  these  woes  thine, 
Thou  and  these  woes  were  all  for  Rosaline : 
And  art  thou  changed  ?  pronounce  this  sentence  then  : 
Women  may  fall  when  there  's  no  strength  in  men. 

Rom.  Thou  chid'st  me  oft  for  loving  Rosaline.  81 

Fri.  L.  For  doting,  not  for  loving,  pupil  mine. 

Rom.  And  bad'st  me  bury  love. 

Fri.  L.  Not  in  a  grave. 

To  lay  one  in,  another  out  to  have. 

Rom.  I  pray  thee,  chide  not:   she  whom  I  love  now 
Doth  grace  for  grace  and  love  for  love  allow ; 
The  other  did  not  so. 

Fri.  L.  O,  she  knew  well 

Thy  love  did  read  by  rote  and  could  not  spell. 

But  come,  young  waverer,  come,  go  with  me. 

In  one  respect  I  '11  thy  assistant  be ;  90 

For  this  alliance  may  so  happy  prove. 

To  turn  your  households'  rancour  to  pure  love. 

Rom.  O,  let  us  hence ;   I  stand  on  sudden  haste. 

Fri.L.  Wisely  and  slow  ;  they  stumble  that  run  fast.  [Exeunt, 

68 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Scene  IV. 

A  street. 
Enter  Benvolio  and  Mercutio. 

Mer,  Where  the  devil  should  this  Romeo  be? 
Came  he  not  home  to-night  ? 

Ben.  Not  to  his  father's ;   I  spoke  with  his  man. 

Mer.  Ah,  that  same  pale  hard-hearted  wench,  that  Rosaline, 
Torments  him  so  that  he  will  sure  run  mad. 

Ben.  Tybalt,  the  kinsman  to  old  Capulet, 
Hath  sent  a  letter  to  his  father's  house. 

Mer.  A  challenge,  on  my  life. 

Ben.  Romeo  will  answer  it. 

Mer.  Any  man  that  can  write  may  answer  a  letter.         lo 

Ben.  Nay,  he  will  answer  the  letter's  master,  how  he 
dares,  being  dared. 

Mer.  Alas,  poor  Romeo,  he  is  already  dead !  stabbed 
with  a  white  wench's  black  eye:  shot  thorough 
the  ear  with  a  love-song;  the  very  pin  of  his 
heart  cleft  with  the  blind  bow -boy's  butt-shaft: 
and  is  he  a  man  to  encounter  Tybalt? 

Ben,  Why,  what  is  Tybalt  ? 

Mer.  More  than  prince  of  cats,  I  can  tell  you.     O, 

he 's  the  courageous  captain  of  compliments.  20 
He  fights  as  you  sing  prick-song,  keeps  time, 
distance  and  proportion ;  rests  me  his  minim  rest, 
one,  two,  and  the  third  in  your  bosom  :  the  very 
butcher  of  a  silk  button,  a  duellist,  a  duellist; 
a  gentleman  of  the  very  first  house,  of  the  first 
and  second  cause :  ah,  the  immortal  passado !  the 
punto  reverso !  the  hai ! 

69 


Act  IL  Sc.  iv.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Ben.  The  what? 

Mer.  The  pox  of  such  antic,  Hsping,  affecting  fan- 

tasticoes ;  these  new  tuners  of  accents !  '  By  30 
Jesu,  a  very  good  blade !  a  very  tall  man !  a 
very  good  whore ! '  Why,  is  not  this  a  lament- 
able thing,  grandsire,  that  we  should  be  thus 
afflicted  with  these  strange  flies,  these  fashion- 
mongers,  these  perdona-mi's,  who  stand  so  much 
on  the  new  form  that  they  cannot  sit  at  ease  on 
the  old  bench  ?    O,  their  bones,  their  bones ! 

Enter  Romeo. 

Ben.  Here  comes  Romeo,  here  comes  Romeo. 

Mer.  Without  his  roe,  like  a  dried  herring :   O  flesh, 

flesh,  how  art  thou  fishified !  Now  is  he  for  the  40 
numbers  that  Petrarch  flowed  in :  Laura  to  his 
lady  was  but  a  kitchen-wench ;  marry,  she  had  a 
better  love  to  be-rhyme  her;  Dido,  a  dowdy; 
Cleopatra,  a  gipsy;  Helen  and  Hero,  hildings 
and  harlots ;  Thisbe,  a  grey  eye  or  so,  but  not  to 
the  purpose.  Signior  Romeo,  bon  jour!  there's 
a  French  salutation  to  your  French  slop.  You 
gave  us  the  counterfeit  fairly  last  night. 

Rom.  Good  morrow  to  you  both.     What  counterfeit 

did  I  give  you  ?  5^ 

Mer.  The  slip,  sir,  the  slip ;  can  you  not  conceive  ? 

Rom.  Pardon,  good  Mercutio,  my  business  was  great 
and  in  such  a  case  as  mine  a  man  may  strain 
courtesy. 

Mer.  That 's  as  much  as  to  say,  Such  a  case  as  yours 
constrains  a  man  to  bow  in  the  hams. 

Rom.  Meaning,  to  court'sy. 

70 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Mer.  Thou  hast  most  kindly  hit  it. 

Rom.  A  most^courteous  exposition. 

Mer,  Nay,  I  am  the  very  pink  of  courtesy.  60 

Rom.  Pink  for  flower. 

Mer.  Right. 

Rom.  Why,  then  is  my  pump  well  flowered. 

Mer.  Well  said:    follow  me  this  jest  now,  till  thou 

hast  worn  out  thy  pump,  that,  when  the  single 

sole  of  it  is  worn,  the  jest  may  remain,  after  the 

wearing,  solely  singular. 
Rom.  O    single-soled   jest,    solely   singular    for   the 

singleness ! 
Mer.  Come  between  us,  good  Benvolio  ;  my  wits  faint.     70 
Rom.  Switch  and  spurs,  switch  and  spurs ;  or  I  '11  cry 

a  match. 
Mer.  Nay,  if  thy  wits  run  the  wild-goose  chase,  I 

have  done ;  for  thou  hast  more  of  the  wild-goose 

in  one  of  thy  wits  than,  I  am  sure,  I  have  in  my 

whole  five :  was  I  with  you  there  for  the  goose  ? 
Rom.  Thou  wast  never  with  me  for  anything  when 

thou  wast  not  there  for  the  goose. 
Mer.  I  will  bite  thee  by  the  ear  for  that  jest. 
Rom.  Nay,  good  goose,  bite  not.  80 

Mer.  Thy  wit  is  a  very  bitter  sweeting ;   it  is  a  most 

sharp  sauce. 
Rom.  And  is  it  not  well  served  in  to  a  sweet  goose? 
Mer.  O,  here  's  a  wit  of  cheveril,  that  stretches  from 

an  inch  narrow  to  an  ell  broad! 
Rom.  I  stretch  it  out  for  that  word  '  broad ' ;   which 

added  to  the  goose,  proves  thee  far  and  wide  a 

broad  goose. 
Mer.  Why,  is  not  this  better  now  than  groaning  for 

71 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

love?    now    art   thou    sociable,    now    art   thou     90 
Romeo ;   now  art  thou  what  thou  art,  by  art  as 
well  as  by  nature:  for  this  drivelling  love  is  like 
a  great  natural,  that  runs  lolling  up  and  down  to 
hide  his  bauble  in  a  hole. 

Ben.  Stop  there,  stop  there. 

Mer.  Thou  desirest  me  to  stop  in  my  tale  against 
the  hair. 

Ben.  Thou  wouldst  else  have  made  thy  tale  large. 

Mer.  O,  thou  art  deceived ;    I  would  have  made  it 

short :    for  I  was  come  to  the  whole  depth  of  100 
my  tale,  and  meant  indeed  to  occupy  the  argu- 
ment no  longer. 

Rom.  Here 's  goodly  gear ! 

Enter  Nurse  and  Peter. 

Mer.  A  sail,  a  sail ! 

Ben.  Two,  two ;  a  shirt  and  a  smock. 

Nurse.  Peter! 

Peter.  Anon? 

Nurse.  My  fan,  Peter. 

Mer.  Good  Peter,  to  hide  her  face ;  for  her  fan  's  the 

fairer  of  the  two.  no 

Nurse.  God  ye  good  morrow,  gentlemen. 

Mer.  God  ye  good  den,  fair  gentlewoman. 

Nurse.  Is  it  good  den  ? 

Mer.  'Tis  no  less,  I  tell  you ;  for  the  bawdy  hand 
of  the  dial  is  now  upon  the  prick  of  noon. 

Nurse.  Out  upon  you  !  what  a  man  are  you ! 

Rom.  One,  gentlewoman,  that  God  hath  made  him- 
self to  mar. 

Nurse.  By  my  troth,  it  is  well  said ;   '  for  himself  to 

72 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

mar,'  quoth  a'?    Gentlemen,  can  any  of  you  tell  120 
me  where  I  may  find  the  young  Romeo  ? 

Rom.  I  can  tell  you ;  but  young  Romeo  will  be  older 
when  you  have  found  him  than  he  was  when  you 
sought  him  :  I  am  the  youngest  of  that  name,  for 
fault  of  a  worse. 

Nurse.  You  say  well. 

Mer.  Yea,  is  the  worst  well?  very  well  took,  i' 
faith ;  wisely,  wisely. 

Nurse.  If  you  be  he,  sir,  I  desire  some  confidence 

wdth  you.  130 

Ben.  She  wall  indite  him  to  some  supper. 

Mer.  A  bawd,  a  bawd,  a  bawd !     So  ho ! 

Rom.  What  hast  thou  found  ? 

Mer.  No  hare,  sir;  unless  a  hare,  sir,  in  a  lenten 
pie,  that  is  something  stale  and  hoar  ere  it  be 
spent.  [Sings. 

An  old  hare  hoar. 

And  an  old  hare  hoar. 
Is  very  good  meat  in  lent : 

But  a  hare  that  is  hoar,  140 

Is  too  much  for  a  score. 
When  it  hoars  ere  it  be  spent. 

Romeo,  will  you  come  to  your  father's  ?   we  '11 

to  dinner  thither. 
Rom..  I  will  follow  you. 
Mer.  Farewell,   ancient   lady;    farewell,    [Singing] 

'  lady,  lady,  lady.'        [Exeimt  Mercutio  and  Benvolio. 
Nurse.  Marry,  farewell !    I  pray  you,  sir,  what  saucy 

merchant  was  this,  that  was  so  full  of  his  ropery  ? 
Rom,  A  gentleman,  nurse,  that  loves  to  hear  himself  150 

72> 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

talk,  and  will  speak  more  in  a  minute  than  he 
will  stand  to  in  a  month. 

Nurse.  An  a'  speak  any  thing  against  me,  I  '11  take 
him  down,  an  a'  were  lustier  than  he  is,  and 
twenty  such  Jacks ;  and  if  I  cannot,  I  '11  find 
those  that  shall.  Scurvy  knave !  I  am  none 
of  his  flirt-gills ;  I  am  none  of  his  skains- 
mates.  [Turning  to  Peter^  And  thou  must  stand 
by  too,  and  suffer  every  knave  to  use  me  at  his 
pleasure?  i6o 

Peter.  I  saw  no  man  use  you  at  his  pleasure;  if  I 
had,  my  weapon  should  quickly  have  been  out,  I 
warrant  you :  I  dare  draw  as  soon  as  another 
man,  if  I  see  occasion  in  a  good  quarrel  and  the 
law  on  my  side. 

Nurse.  Now,  afore  God,  I  am  so  vexed  that  every 
part  about  me  quivers.  Scurvy  knave!  Pray 
you,  sir,  a  word :  and  as  I  told  you,  my  young 
lady  bade  me  inquire  you  out ;  what  she  bade  me 
say,  I  will  keep  to  myself:  but  first  let  me  tell  170 
ye,  if  ye  should  lead  her  into  a  fool's  paradise,  as 
they  say,  it  were  a  very  gross  kind  of  behaviour, 
as  they  say :  for  the  gentlewoman  is  young,  and 
therefore,  if  you  should  deal  double  with  her, 
truly  it  were  an  ill  thing  to  be  offered  to  any 
gentlewoman,  and  very  weak  dealing. 

Rom.  Nurse,  commend  me  to  thy  lady  and  mistress. 
I  protest  unto  thee — 

Nurse.  Good  heart,  and,  i'  faith,  I  will  tell  her  as 

much:  Lord,  Lord,  she  will  be  a  joyful  woman.   180 

Rom.  What  wilt  thou  tell  her,  nurse?  thou  dost  not 
mark  me. 

74 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Nurse.  I    will   tell   her,    sir,    that   you    do   protest; 
which,  as  I  take  it,  is  a  gentlemanlike  offer. 

Rom.  Bid  her  devise 

Some  means  to  come  to  shrift  this  afternoon ; 

And  there  she  shall  at  Friar  Laurence'  cell 

Be  shrived  and  married.     Here  is  for  thy  pains. 

Nurse.  No,  truly,  sir ;  not  a  penny. 

Rom.  Go  to ;  I  say  you  shall.  190 

Nurse.  This  afternoon,  sir?   well,  she  shall  be  there. 

Rom.  And  stay,  good  nurse,  behind  the  abbey-wall : 
Within  this  hour  my  man  shall  be  with  thee, 
And  bring  thee  cords  made  like  a  tackled  stair ; 
Which  to  the  high  top-gallant  of  my  joy 
Must  be  my  convoy  in  the  secret  night. 
Farewell ;   be  trusty,  and  I  '11  quit  thy  pains  : 
Farewell ;   commend  me  to  thy  mistress. 

Nurse.  Now  God  in  heaven  bless  thee  !     Hark  you,  sir. 

Rom.  What  say'st  thou,  my  dear  nurse?  200 

Nurse.  Is  your  man  secret  ?     Did  you  ne'er  hear  say, 
Two  may  keep  counsel,  putting  one  away  ? 

Rom.  I  warrant  thee,  my  man  's  as  true  as  steel. 

Nurse.  Well,  sir ;  my  mistress  is  the  sweetest  lady — 
Lord,  Lord !  when  'twas  a  little  prating  thing — 
O,  there  is  a  nobleman  in  town,  one  Paris,  that 
would  fain  lay  knife  aboard ;  but  she,  good  soul, 
had  as  lieve  see  a  toad,  a  very  toad,  as  see  him. 
I  anger  her  sometimes,  and  tell  her  that  Paris  is 
the  properer  man  ;  but  I  '11  warrant  you,  when  I  210 
say  so,  she  looks  as  pale  as  any  clout  in  the  versal 
world.  Doth  not  rosemary  and  Romeo  begin 
both  with  a  letter  ? 

Rom.  Ay,  nurse ;  what  of  that  ?  both  with  an  R. 

75 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Nurse.  Ah,  mocker !  that 's  the  dog's  name  ;  R  is  for 
the — No ;  I  know  it  begins  with  some  other  letter 
— and  she  hath  the  prettiest  sententious  of  it,  of 
you  and  rosemary,  that  it  would  do  you  good  to 
hear  it. 

Rom.  Commend  me  to  thy  lady.  220 

Nurse.  Ay,  a  thousand  times.    [Exit  Romeo. '\    Peter! 

Pet.  Anon? 

Nurse.  Peter,  take  my  fan,  and  go  before,  and  apace. 

[Exeunt, 

Scene  V. 

Capulefs  orchard. 

Enter  Juliet. 

Jul.  The  clock  struck  nine  when  I  did  send  the  nurse  ; 
In  half  an  hour  she  promised  to  return. 
Perchance  she  cannot  meet  him :   that 's  not  so. 
O,  she  is  lame !   love's  heralds  should  be  thoughts, 
Which  ten  times  faster  glide  than  the  sun's  beams, 
Driving  back  shadows  over  louring  hills : 
Therefore  do  nimble-pinion'd  doves  draw  love. 
And  therefore  hath  the  wind-swift  Cupid  wings. 
Now  is  the  sun  upon  the  highmost  hill 
Of  this  day's  journey,  and  from  nine  till  twelve      10 
Is  three  long  hours ;   yet  she  is  not  come. 
Had  she  affections  and  warm  youthful  blood. 
She  would  be  as  swift  in  motion  as  a  ball ; 
My  words  would  bandy  her  to  my  sweet  love, 
And  his  to  me : 

But  old  folks,  many  feign  as  they  were  dead; 
Unwieldy,  slow,  heavy  and  pale  as  lead. 

76 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Enter  Nurse,  with  Peter. 

O  God,  she  comes  !     O  honey  nurse,  what  news  ? 
Hast  thou  met  with  him?     Send  thy  man  away. 

Nurse.  Peter,  stay  at  the  gate.  [Exit  Peter.     20 

Jul  Now,  good  sweet  nurse, — O  Lord,  why  look'st  thou 
sad? 
Though  news  be  sad,  yet  tell  them  merrily ; 
If  good,  thou  shamest  the  music  of  sweet  news 
By  playing  it  to  me  with  so  sour  a  face. 

Nurse.  I  am  a-weary ;  give  me  leave  a  while. 

Fie,  how  my  bones  ache !   what  a  jaunce  have  I  had ! 

Jul.  I  would  thou  hadst  my  bones  and  I  thy  news : 

Nay,  come,  I  pray  thee,  speak;    good,  good  nurse, 
speak. 

Nurse.  Jesu,  what  haste  ?  can  you  not  stay  a  while  ? 

Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  out  of  breath?  30 

Jul.  How  art  thou  out  of  breath,  when  thou  hast  breath 
To  say  to  me  that  thou  art  out  of  breath  ? 
The  excuse  that  thou  dost  make  in  this  delay 
Is  longer  than  the  tale  thou  dost  excuse. 
Is  thy  news  good,  or  bad?  answer  to  that; 
Say  either,  and  I  '11  stay  the  circumstance : 
Let  me  be  satisfied,  is  't  good  or  bad  ? 

Nurse.  Well,  you  have  made  a  simple  choice;  you 
know  not  how  to  choose  a  man :  Romeo !  no, 
not  he;  though  his  face  be  better  than  any  40 
man's,  yet  his  leg  excels  all  men's ;  and  for  a 
hand,  and  a  foot,  and  a  body,  though  they  be 
not  to  be  talked  on,  yet  they  are  past  compare : 
he  is  not  the  flower  of  courtesy,  but,  I  '11  warrant 
him,  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  Go  thy  ways,  wench ; 
serve  God.     What,  have  you  dined  at  home? 

77 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Jul.  No,  no :  but  all  this  did  I  know  before. 

What  says  he  of  our  marriage?   what  of  that? 

Nurse.  Lord,  how  my  head  aches  !  what  a  head  have  I ! 
It  beats  as  it  would  fall  in  twenty  pieces.  50 

My  back  o'  t'  other  side, — ah,  my  back,  my  back ! 
Beshrew  your  heart  for  sending  me  about, 
To  catch  my  death  with  jauncing  up  and  down ! 

Jul.  V  faith,  I  am  sorry  that  thou  art  not  well. 

Sweet,  sweet,   sweet  nurse,  tell  me,  what  says  my 
love? 

Nurse.  Your  love  says,  like  an  honest  gentleman,  and 
a  courteous,  and  a  kind,  and  a  handsome,  and,  I 
warrant,  a  virtuous, — Where  is  your  mother? 

Jul.  Where  is  my  mother !   why,  she  is  within ; 

Where  should  she  be  ?     How  oddly  thou  repliest ! 
'  Your  love  says,  like  an  honest  gentleman,  61 

Where  is  your  mother  ?  ' 

Nurse.  O  God's  lady  dear! 

Are  you  so  hot  ?  marry,  come  up,  I  trow ; 
Is  this  the  poultice  for  my  aching  bones  ? 
Henceforward  do  your  messages  yourself. 

Jul.  Here  's  such  a  coil!   come,  what  says  Romeo? 

Nurse.  Have  you  got  leave  to  go  to  shrift  to-day? 

Jul.  I  have. 

Nurse.  Then  hie  you  hence  to  Friar  Laurence'  cell ; 

There  stays  a  husband  to  make  you  a  wife :  70 

Now  comes  the  wanton  blood  up  in  your  cheeks, 

They  '11  be  in  scarlet  straight  at  any  news. 

Hie  you  to  church ;   I  must  another  way, 

To  fetch  a  ladder,  by  the  which  your  love 

Must  climb  a  bird's  nest  soon  when  it  Is  dark ; 

I  am  the  drudge,  and  toil  in  your  delight 

78 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  II.  Sc.  vi. 

But  you  shall  bear  the  burthen  soon  at  night. 
Go ;  I  '11  to  dinner ;  hie  you  to  the  cell. 
Jul.  Hie  to  high  fortune !     Honest  nurse,  farewell. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  VI. 

Friar  Laurence's  cell. 
Enter  Friar  Laurence  and  Romeo.  . 

Fri.  L.  So  smile  the  heavens  upon  this  holy  act 
That  after-hours  with  sorrow  chide  us  not ! 

Rom.  Amen,  amen  !  but  come  what  sorrow  can. 
It  cannot  countervail  the  exchange  of  joy 
That  one  short  minute  gives  me  in  her  sight : 
Do  thou  but  close  our  hands  with  holy  words, 
Then  love-devouring  death  do  what  he  dare, 
It  is  enough  I  may  but  call  her  mine. 

Fri.  L.  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends. 

And  in  their  triumph  die ;  like  fire  and  powder         lo 
Which  as  they  kiss  consume :  the  sweetest  honey 
Is  loathsome  in  his  own  deliciousness, 
And  in  the  taste  confounds  the  appetite : 
Therefore,  love  moderately ;  long  love  doth  so ; 
Too  swift  arrives  as  tardy  as  too  slow. 

Enter  Juliet, 

Here  comes  the  lady.     O,  so  light  a  foot 
Will  ne'er  wear  out  the  everlasting  flint. 
A  lover  may  bestride  the  gossamer 
That  idles  in  the  wanton  summer  air. 
And  yet  not  fall ;  so  light  is  vanity.  20 

Jul.  Good  even  to  my  ghostly  confessor. 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Fri.  L.  Romeo  shall  thank  thee,  daughter,  for  us  both. 

JiiL  As  much  to  him,  else  is  his  thanks  too  much. 

Rom.  Ah,  Juliet,  if  the  measure  of  thy  joy 

Be  heap'd  Uke  mine,  and  that  thy  skill  be  more 
To  blazon  it,  then  sweeten  with  thy  breath 
This  neighbour  air,  and  let  rich  music's  tongue 
Unfold  the  imagined  happiness  that  both 
Receive  in  either  by  this  dear  encounter. 

Jul.  Conceit,  more  rich  in  matter  than  in  words,  30 

Brags  of  his  substance,  not  of  ornament : 
They  are  but  beggars  that  can  count  their  worth ; 
But  my  true  love  is  grown  to  such  excess, 
I  cannot  sum  up  sum  of  half  my  wealth. 

Fri.  L.  Come,  come  with  me,  and  we  will  make  short 
work; 
For,  by  your  leaves,  you  shall  not  stay  alone 
Till  holy  church  incorporate  two  in  one.         [Exeunt, 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

A  public  place. 
Enter  Mercutio,  Benvolio,  Page,  and  Servants. 

Ben.  I  pray  thee,  good  Mercutio,  let 's  retire : 
The  day  is  hot,  the  Capulets  abroad. 
And,  if  we  meet,  we  shall  not  'scape  a  brawl ; 
For  now  these  hot  days  is  the  mad  blood  stirring. 

Mer.  Thou  art  like  one  of  those  fellow  that  when 

he  enters  the  confines  of  a  tavern  claps  me  his 

sword  upon  the  table,  and  says  '  God  send  me 

no  need  of  thee ! '  and  by  the  operation  of  the 

80 


I 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

second  cup  draws  it  on  the  drawer,  when  indeed 
there  is  no  need.  lo 

Ben.  Am  I  Hke  such  a  fellow  ? 

Mer.  Come,  come,  thou  art  as  hot  a  Jack  in  thy  mood 
as  any  in  Italy,  and  as  soon  moved  to  be  moody, 
and  as  soon  moody  to  be  moved. 

Ben.  And  what  to  ? 

Mer.  Nay,  an  there  were  two  such,  we  should  have 
none  shortly,  for  one  would  kill  the  other. 
Thou!  why,  thou  wilt  quarrel  with  a  man  that 
hath  a  hair  more,  or  a  hair  less,  in  his  beard  than 
thou  hast :  thou  wilt  quarrel  with  a  man  for  20 
cracking  nuts,  having  no  other  reason  but  because 
thou  hast  hazel  eyes  ;  what  eye,  but  such  an  eye, 
would  spy  out  such  a  quarrel?  thy  head  is  as 
full  of  quarrels  as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat,  and 
yet  thy  head  hath  been  beaten  as  addle  as  an  egg 
for  quarrelling :  thou  hast  quarrelled  with  a  man 
for  coughing  in  the  street,  because  he  hath 
wakened  thy  dog  that  hath  lain  asleep  in  the  sun  : 
didst  thou  not  fall  out  with  a  tailor  for  wearing 
his  new  doublet  before  Easter?  with  another,  30 
for  tying  his  new  shoes  with  old  riband?  and 
yet  thou  wilt  tutor  me  from  quarrelling! 

Ben.  An  I  were  so  apt  to  quarrel  as  thou  art.  any 
man  should  buy  the  fee-simple  of  my  life  for  an 
hour  and  a  quarter. 

Mer.  The  fee-simple !    O  simple ! 

Enter  Tybalt  and  others. 

Ben.  By  my  head,  here  come  the  Capulets. 
Mer,  By  my  heel,  I  care  not. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Tyh.  Follow  me  close,  for  I  will  speak  to  them. 

Gentlemen,  good  den  :  a  word  with  one  of  you.       40 

Mer.  And  but  one  word  with  one  of  us  ?  couple  it 
with  something ;  make  it  a  word  and  a  blow. 

Tyb.  You  shall  find  me  apt  enough  to  that,  sir,  an  you 
will  give  me  occasion. 

Mer.  Could  you  not  take  some  occasion  without  giving  ? 

Tyh.  Mercutio,  thou  consort'st  with  Romeo, — 

Mer.  Consort !  what,  dost,  thou  make  us  minstrels  ? 
an  thou  make  minstrels  of  us,  look  to  hear  noth- 
ing but  discords :  here  's  my  fiddlestick ;  here  's 
that  shall  make  you  dance.    'Zounds,  consort !        ^o 

Ben.  We  talk  here  in  the  public  haunt  of  men : 
Either  withdraw  unto  some  private  place, 
Or  reason  coldly  of  your  grievances. 
Or  else  depart ;   here  all  eyes  tgaze  on  us. 

Mer.  Men's  eyes  were  made  to  look,  and  let  them  gaze; 
I  will  not  budge  for  no  man's  pleasure,  I. 

Enter  Romeo. 

Tyh.  Well,  peace  be  with  you,  sir :  here  comes  my  man. 
Mer.  But  I  '11  be  hang'd,  sir,  if  he  wear  your  livery : 

Marry,  go  before  to  field,  he  '11  be  your  follower ; 

Your  worship  in  that  sense  may  call  him  man.  60 

Tyh.  Romeo,  the  love  I  bear  thee  can  afford 

No  better  term  than  this, — thou  art  a  villain. 
Rom.  Tybalt,  the  reason  that  I  have  to  love  thee 

Doth  much  excuse  the  appertaining  rage 

To  such  a  greeting :   villain  am  I  none ; 

Therefore  farewell ;  I  see  thou  know'st  me  not. 
Tyh.  Boy,  this  shall  not  excuse  the  injuries 

That  thou  hast  done  me ;  therefore  turn  and  draw. 

82 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Rom.  I  do  protest,  I  never  injured  thee, 

But  love  thee  better  than  thou  canst  devise  70 

Till  thou  shalt  know  the  reason  of  my  love: 
And  so,  good  Capulet, — which  name  I  tender 
As  dearly  as  mine  own, — be  satisfied. 

Mer.  O  calm,  dishonourable,  vile  submission ! 

Alia  stoccata  carries  it  away.  [Drarcvs. 

Tybalt,  you  rat-catcher,  will  you  walk? 

Tyb.  What  wouldst  thou  have  with  me? 

Mer.  Good  king  of  cats;  nothing  but  one  of  your 
nine  lives,  that  I  mean  to  make  bold  withal,  and, 
as  you  shall  use  me  hereafter,  dry-beat  the  rest  80 
of  the  eight.  Will  you  pluck  your  sword  out  of 
his  pilcher  by  the  ears  ?  make  haste,  lest  mine  be 
about  your  ears  ere  it  be  out. 

Tyh.  I  am  for  you.  {Drawing. 

Rom.  Gentle  Mercutio,  put  thy  rapier  up. 

Mer.  Come,  sir,  your  passado.  [They  fight, 

Rom.  Draw,  Benvolio;  beat  down  their  weapons. 
Gentlemen,  for  shame,  forbear  this  outrage! 
Tybalt,  Mercutio,  the  prince  expressly  hath 
Forbid  this  bandying  in  Verona  streets :  90 

Hold,  Tybalt !   good  Mercutio ! 

[Tybalt  under  Romeo's  arm  stabs  Mercutio 
and  flies  zvith  his  followers. 

Mer,  I  am  hurt; 

A  plague  o'  both  your  houses !    I  am  sped : 
Is  he  gone,  and  hath  nothing? 

Ben.  What,  art  thou  hurt  ? 

Mer,  Ay,  ay,  a  scratch,  a  scratch ;  marry,  'tis  enough. 
Where  is  my  page?     Go,  villain,  fetch  a  surgeon. 

[Exit  Page. 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Rom.  Courage,  man ;  the  hurt  cannot  be  much. 

Mer.  No,  'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as  a 
church-door;  but  'tis  enough,  'twill  serve:  ask 
for  me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  find  me  a 
grave  man.  I  am  peppered,  I  warrant,  for  this  loo 
world.  A  plague  o'  both  your  houses !  'Zounds, 
a  dog,  a  rat,  a  mouse,  a  cat,  to  scratch  a  man  to 
death !  a  braggart,  a  rogue,  a  villain,  that  fights 
by  the  book  of  arithmetic !  Why  the  devil  came 
you  between  us?     I  was  hurt  under  your  arm. 

Rom.  I  thought  all  for  the  best. 

Mer.  Help  me  into  some  house,  Benvolio, 

Or  I  shall  faint.  A  plague  o'  both  your  houses ! 
They  have  made  worms'  meat  of  me :  I  have  it. 
And  soundly  too:  your  houses!  no 

[Exeunt  Merciitio  and  Benvolio. 

Rom.  This  gentleman,  the  prince's  near  ally. 
My  very  friend,  hath  got  this  mortal  hurt 
In  my  behalf ;   my  reputation  stain'd 
With  Tybalt's  slander, — Tybalt,  that  an  hour 
Hath  been  my  kinsman :   O  sweet  Juliet, 
Thy  beauty  hath  made  me  eflfeminate. 
And  in  my  temper  soften'd  valour's  steel ! 

Re-enter  Benvolio. 

Ben.  O  Romeo,  Romeo,  brave  Mercutio  's  dead ! 
That  gallant  spirit  hath  aspired  the  clouds. 
Which  too  untimel}i  here  (Jid  scorn  the  earth.        120 

Rom.  This  day's  black  mf^nfm^dkys  doth  depend ; 
Mj94jJU  of    This  but  begins  the  woe  others  must  end. 

'  J  Re-^enter  Tybalt. 

Ben.  Here  comes  the  furious  Tybalt  back  again. 


1 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Rom.  Alive,  in  triumph  !   and  Mercutio  slain  ! 

Away  to  heaven,  respective'  lenity,  / 

And  fire-eyed  fury  be  my  conduct  now ! 

Now,  Tybalt,  take  the  '  villain  '  back  again 

That  late  thou  gavest  me ;   for  Mercutio's  soul 

Is  but  a  little  way  above  our  heads, 

Staying  for  thine  to  keep  him  company :  130 

Either  thou,  or  I,  or  both,  must  go  with  him. 

Tyh.  Thou,  wretched  boy,  that  didst  consort  him  here, 
Shalt  with  him  hence. 

Rom.  This  shall  determine  that. 

[They  light;   Tybalt  falls. 

Ben.  Romeo,  away,  be  gone ! 

The  citizens  are  up,  and  Tybalt  slain : 

Stand  not  amazed :  the  prince  will  doom  thee  death 

If  thou  art  taken :   hence,  be  gone,  away ! 

Rom.  O,  I  am  fortune's  fool ! 

Ben.  Why  dost  thou  stay  ? 

[Exit  Romeo. 

Enter  Citizens,  etc. 

First  Cit.  Which  way  ran  he  fhat  kill'd  Mercutio  ? 

Tybalt,  that  murderer,  which  way  ran  he?  140 

Ben.  There  lies  that  Tybalt. 
First  Cit.  Up,  sir,  go  with  me ; 

I  charge  thee  in  the  prince's  name,  obey. 

Enter  Prince,  attended;   Montague,  Capulet,  their 
Wives y  and  others. 

Prin.  Where  are  the  vile  beginners  of  this  fray  ? 
Ben.  O  noble  prince,  I  can  discover  'all 

The  unlucky  manage  of  this  fatal  brawl : 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

There  lies  the  man,  slain  by  young  Romeo, 
That  slew  thy  kinsman,  brave  Mercutio. 

La.  Cap.  Tybalt,  my  cousin  !     O  my  brother's  child  ! 

O  prince!   O  cousin!   husband!    O,  the  blood  is  spilt 
Of  my  dear  kinsman!     Prince,  as  thou  art  true,  150 
For  blood  of  ours,  shed  blood  of  Montague. 
O  cousin,  cousin ! 

Prin.  Benvolio,  who  began  this  bloody  fray  ? 

Ben.  Tybalt,  here  slain,  whom  Romeo's  hand  did  slay ; 
Romeo  that  spoke  him  fair,  bid  him  bethink 
How  nice  the  quarrel  was,  and  urged  withal 
Your  high  displeasure :   all  this  uttered 
With  gentle  breath,  calm  look,  knees  humbly  bow'd. 
Could  not  take  truce  with  the  unruly  spleen 
Of  Tybalt  deaf  to  peace,  but  that  he  tilts  160 

With  piercing  steel  at  bold  Mercutio's  breast ; 
Who,  all  as  hot,  turns  deadly  point  to  point. 
And,  with  a  martial  scorn,  with  one  hand  beats 
Cold  death  aside,  and  with  the  other  sends 
It  back  to  Tybalt,  whose  dexterity 
Retorts  it :   Romeo  he  cries  aloud, 
'  Hold,   friends  !    friends,  part ! '    and,  swifter  than 

his  tongue. 
His  agile  arm  beats  down  their  fatal  points, 
And  'twixt  them  rushes ;   underneath  whose  arm 
An  envious  thrust  from  Tybalt  hit  the  life  170 

Of  stout  Mercutio,  and  then  Tybalt  fled : 
But  by  and  by  comes  back  to  Romeo, 
Who  had  but  newly  entertain'd  revenge, 
And  to  't  they  go  like  lightning :   for,  ere  I 
Could  draw  to  part  them,  was  stout  Tybalt  slain ; 
And,  as  he  fell,  did  Romeo  turn  and  fly ; 


N 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

This  is  the  truth,  or  let  Benvolio  die. 
La.  Cap.  He  is  a  kinsman  to  the  Montague, 

Affection  makes  him  false,  he  speaks  not  true : 

Some  twenty  of  them  fought  in  this  black  strife,  i8o 

And  all  those  twenty  could  but  kill  one  life. 

I  beg  for  justice,  which  thou,  prince,  must  give ; 

Romeo  slew  Tybalt,  Romeo  must  not  live. 
Prin.  Romeo  slew  him,  he  slew  Mercutio  ; 

Who  now  the  price  of  his  dear  blood  doth  owe  ? 
Mon.  Not  Romeo,  prince,  he  was  Mercutio's  friend ; 

His  fault  concludes  but  what  the  law  should  end, 

The  life  of  Tybalt. 
Prin.  And  for  that  offence 

Immediately  we  do  exile  him  hence : 

I  have  an  interest  in  your  hate's  proceeding,  190 

My  blood  for  your  rude  brawls  doth  lie  a-bleeding ; 

But  I  '11  amerce  you  with  so  strong  a  fine, 

That  you  shall  all  repent  the  loss  of  mine : 

I  will  be  deaf  to  pleading  and  excuses ; 

Nor  tears  nor  prayers  shall  purchase  out  abuses : 
■  Therefore  use  none :  let  Romeo  hence  in  haste, 

Else,  when  he  's  found,  that  hour  is  his  last. 

Bear  hence  this  body,  and  attend  our  will : 

Mercy  but  murders,  pardoning  those  that  kill. 


[Exeunt. 


Scene  II. 

Capulet's  orchard. 

Enter  Juliet. 

Jul.  Gallop  apace,  you  fiery-footed  steeds. 

Toward  Phoebus'  lodging:   such  a  waggoner 
As  Phaethon  would  whip  you  to  the  west, 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  bring  in  cloudy  night  immediately. 

Spread  thy  close  curtain,  love-performing  night, 

That  runaways'  eyes  may  wink,  and  Romeo 

Leap  to  these  arms,  untalk'd  of  and  unseen. 

Lovers  can  see  to  do  their  amorous  rites 

By  their  own  beauties ;   or,  if  love  be  blind, 

It  best  agrees  with  night.     Come,  civil  night,  lo 

Thou  sober-suited  matron,  all  in  black. 

And  learn  me  how  to  lose  a  winning  match, 

Play'd  for  a  pair  of  stainless  maidenhoods : 

Hood  my  unmann'd  blood  bating  in  my  cheeks 

With  thy  black  mantle,  till  strange  love  grown  bold 

Think  true  love  acted  simple  modesty. 

Come,    night,    come,    Romeo,    come,    thou    day    in 

night ; 
For  thou  wilt  lie  upon  the  wings  of  night 
Whiter  than  new  snow  on  a  raven's  back. 
Come,  gentle  night,  come,  loving,  black-brow'd  night. 
Give  me  my  Romeo ;  and,  when  he  shall  die,  21 

Take  him  and  cut  him  out  in  little  stars. 
And  he  will  make  the  face  of  heaven  so  fine, 
That  all  the  world  will  be  in  love  with  night, 
And  pay  no  worship  to  the  garish  sun. 
O,  I  have  bought  the  mansion  of  a  love, 
But  not  possess'd  it,  and,  though  I  am  sold. 
Not  yet  enjoy'd;   so  tedious  is  this  day 
As  is  the  night  before  some  festival 
To  an  impatient  child  that  hath  new  robes  30 

And    may    not    wear    them.     O,    here    comes    my 

nurse, 
And  she  brings  news,  and  every  tongue  that  speaks 
But  Romeo's  name  speaks  heavenly  eloquence. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Enter  Nurse,  zvith  cords. 

Now,  nurse,   what  news?     What  hast  thou  there? 

the  cords 
That  Romeo  bid  thee  fetch  ? 

Nurse'.  Ay,  ay,  the  cords. 

[  Throws  them  down. 

Jul.  Ay   me!    what  news?    why   dost  thou   wring  thy 
hands  ? 

Nurse.  Ah,  well-a-day !  he 's  dead,  he  's  dead,  he  's  dead. 
We  are  undone,  lady,  we  are  undone. 
Alack  the  day !   he  's  gone,  he  's  kill'd,  he  's  dead. 

Jul.  Can  heaven  be  so  envious  ? 

Nurse.  Romeo  can,  40 

Though  heaven  cannot.     O  Rom^o,  Romeo ! 
Who  ever  would  have  thought  it?     Romeo! 

Jul.  What  devil  art  thou  that  dost  torment  me  thus  ? 
This  torture  should  be  roar'd  in  dismal  hell. 
Hath  Romeo  slain  himself  ?  say  thou  but  *  1/ 
And  that  bare  vowel  '  I '  shall  poison  more 
Than  the  death-darting  eye  of  cockatrice : 
I  am  not  I,  if  there  be  such  an  I, 
Or  those  eyes  shut,  that  make  thee  answer  '  L' 
If  he  be  slain,  say  '  I ' ;   or  if  not,  no :  50 

Brief  sounds  determine  of  my  weal  or  woe. 

Nurse.  I  saw  the  wound,  I  saw  it  with  mine  eyes — 
God  save  the  mark ! — here  on  his  manly  breast : 
A  piteous  corse,  a  bloody  piteous  corse ; 
Pale,  pale  as  ashes,  all  bedaub'd  in  blood. 
All  in  gore  blood :   I  swounded  at  the  sight. 

Jul.  O,  break,  my  heart !  poor  bankrupt,  break  at  once ! 
To  prison,  eyes,  ne'er  look  on  liberty ! 
Vile  earth,  to  earth  resign,  end  motion  here, 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  thou  and  Romeo  press  one  heavy  bier !  60 

Nurse.  O  Tybalt,  Tybalt,  the  best  friend  I  had ! 

O  courteous  Tybalt!    honest  gentleman! 

That  ever  I  should  live  to  see  thee  dead ! 
Jul.  What  storm  is  this  that  blows  so  contrary? 

Is  Romeo  slaugnter'd,  and  is  Tybalt  dead  ? 

My  dear-loved  cousin,  and  my  dearer  lord? 

Then,  dreadful  trumpet,  sound  the  general  doom ! 

For  who  is  living,  if  those  two  are  gone? 
Nurse.  Tybalt  is  gone,  and  Romeo  banished ; 

Romeo  that  kill'd  him,  he  is  banished.  70 

Jul.  O  God!   did  Romeo's  hand  shed  Tybalt's  blood? 
Nurse.  It  did,  it  did ;  alas  the  day,  it  did ! 
Jul.  O  serpent  heart,  hid  with  a  flowering  face! 

Did  ever  dragon  keep  so  fair  a  cave? 

Beautiful  tyrant!   fiend  angelical! 

Dove-feather' d  raven  !   w^olvish-ravening  lamb ! 

Despised  substance  of  divinest  show ! 

Just  opposite  to  what  thou  justly  seem'st, 

A  damned  saint,  an  honourable  villain ! 

O  nature,  what  hadst  thou  to  do  in  hell,  80 

When  thou  didst  bower  the  spirit  of  a  fiend 

In  mortal  paradise  of  such  sweet  flesh  ? 

Was  ever  book  containing  such  vile  matter 

So  fairly  bound  ?     O,  that  deceit  should  dwell 

In  such  a  gorgeous  palace! 
Nurse.  There  's  no  trust, 

No  faith,  no  honesty  in  men  ;  all  perjured, 

All  forsworn,  all  naught,  all  dissemblers. 

Ah,  where  's  my  man  ?  give  me  some  aqua  vitse : 

These  griefs,  these  woes,  these  sorrows  make  me  old. 

Shame  come  to  Romeo ! 

90 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Jul.  Blister'd  be  thy  tongue     90 

For  such  a  wish !   he  was  not  born  to  shame : 
Upon  his  brow  shame  is  ashamed  to  sit ; 
For  'tis  a  throne  where  honour  may  be  crown'd 
Sole  monarch  of  the  universal  earth. 
O,  what  a  beast  was  I  to  chide  at  him ! 

Nurse.  Will  you  speak  well  of  him  that  kill'd  your  cousin  ? 

Jul.  Shall  I  speak  ill  of  him  that  is  my  husband  ? 

Ah,  poor  my  lord,  what  tongue  shall  smooth  thy 

name. 
When  I,  thy  three-hours  wife,  have  mangled  it? 
But  wherefore,  villain,  didst  thou  kill  my  cousin?  100 
That  villain  cousin  would  have  kill'd  my  husband : 
Back,  foolish  tears,  back  to  your  native  spring : 
Your  tributary  drops  belong  to  woe. 
Which  you  mistaking  offer  up  to  joy. 
My  husband  lives,  that  Tybalt  would  have  slain ; 
And  Tybalt 's  dead,  that  would  have  slain  my  husband : 
All  this  is  comfort ;  wherefore  weep  I  then  ? 
Some  word  there  was,  worser  than  Tybalt's  death, 
That  murder'd  me :   I  would  forget  it  fain  ; 
But,  O,  it  presses  to  my  memory,  no 

Like  damned  guilty  deeds  to  sinners'  minds : 
*  Tybalt  is  dead,  and  Romeo  banished ; ' 
That  '  banished,'  that  one  word  '  banished,' 
Hath  slain  ten  thousand  Tybalts.     Tybalt's  death 
Was  woe  enough,  if  it  had  ended  there : 
Or,  if  sour  woe  delights  in  fellowship. 
And  needly  will  be  rank'd  with  other  griefs, 
Why  follow'd  not,  when  she  said  '  Tybalt 's  dead,' 
Thy  father,  or  thy  mother,  nay,  or  both, 
Which  modern  lamentation  might  have  moved?    120 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

But  with  a  rear-ward  following  Tybalt's  death, 

'  Romeo  is  banished  ' :   to  speak  that  word, 

Is  father,  mother,  Tybalt,  Romeo,  Juliet, 

All  slain,  all  dead.     '  Romeo  is  banished/ 

There  is  no  end,  no  limit,  measure,  bound. 

In  that  word's  death ;   no  words  can  that  woe  sound. 

Where  is  my  father,  and  my  mother,  nurse? 

Nurse.  Weeping  and  wailing  over  Tybalt's  corse : 
Will  you  go  to  them  ?     I  will  bring  you  thither. 

JuL  Wash  they  his  wounds  with  tears :    mine  shall  be 
spent,  130 

When  theiKs  are  dry,  for  Romeo's  banishment. 
Take  up  those  cords :  poor  ropes,  you  are  beguiled. 
Both  you  and  I ;   for  Romeo  is  exiled : 
He  made  you  for  a  highway  to  my  bed ; 
But  I,  a  maid,  die  maiden-widowed. 
Come,  cords  ;  come,  nurse  ;   I  '11  to  my  wedding-bed ; 
And  death,  not  Romeo,  take  my  maidenhead ! 

Nurse.  Hie  to  your  chamber :  I  '11  find  Romeo 
To  comfort  you :  I  wot  well  where  he  is. 
Hark  ye,  your  Romeo  will  be  here  at  night :  140 

I  '11  to  him ;  he  is  hid  at  Laurence'  cell. 

JuL  O,  find  him !   give  this  ring  to  my  true  knight, 
And  bid  him  come  to  take  his  last  farewell. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Friar  Laurence's  cell. 

Enter  Friar  Laurence.         , 

Fri.  L.  Romeo,  come  forth ;  come  forth,  thou  fearful  man : 
Affliction  is  enamour'd  of  thy  parts, 
And  thou  art  wedded  to  calamity. 

92 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Enter  Romeo. 

Rom.  Father,  what  news  ?  what  is  the  prince's  doom  ? 
What  sorrow  craves  acquaintance  at  my  hand, 
That  I  yet  know  not? 

Fri.  L.  Too  famihar 

Is  my  dear  son  with  such  sour  company : 
I  bring  thee  tidings  of  the  prince's  doom. 

Rom.  What  less  than  dooms-day  is  the  prince's  doom  ? 

Fri.  L.  A  gentler  judgement  vanish'd  from  his  lips,        lo 
Not  body's  death,  but  body's  banishment. 

Rom.  Ha,  banishment !    be  merciful,  say  '  death  ' ; 
For  exile  hath  more  terror  in  his  look, 
Much  more  than  death  :  do  not  say  '  banishment/ 

Fri.  L.  Here  from  Verona  art  thou  banished : 
Be  patient,  for  the  world  is  broad  and  wide. 

Rom.  There  is  no  world  without  Verona  walls. 
But  purgatory,  torture,  hell  itself. 
Hence  banished  is  banish 'd  from  the  world. 
And  world's  exile  is  death :  then  '  banished '  20 

Is  death  mis-term'd :   calling  death  '  banished,* 
Thou  cut'st  my  head  off  with  a  golden  axe. 
And  smilest  upon  the  stroke  that  murders  me. 

Fri.  L.  O  deadly  sin  !    O  rude  unthankfulness  ! 

Thy  fault  our  law  calls  death ;  but  the  kind  prince. 
Taking  thy  part,  hath  rush'd  aside  the  law. 
And  turn'd  that  black  word  death  to  banishment : 
This  is  dear  mercy,  and  thou  seest  it  not. 

Rom.  'Tis  torture,  and  not  mercy :  heaven  is  here. 

Where  Juliet  lives  ;  and  every  cat  and  dog  30 

And  little  mouse,  every  unworthy  thing, 
Live  here  in  heaven  and  may  look  on  her, 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

But  Romeo  may  not :  more  validity, 

More  honourable  state,  more  courtship  lives 

In  carrion-flies  than  Romeo  :  they  may  seize 

On  the  white  wonder  of  dear  Juliet's  hand, 

And  steal  immortal  blessing  from  her  lips ; 

Who,  even  in  pure  and  vestal  modesty, 

Still  blush,  as  thinking  their  own  kisses  sin ; 

But  Romeo  may  not ;  he  is  banished :  40 

This  may  flies  do,  but  I  from  this  must  fly : 

They  are  free  men,  but  I  am  banished : 

And  say'st  thou  yet,  that  exile  is  not  death  ? 

Hadst  thou  no  poison  mix'd,  no  sharp-ground  knife. 

No  sudden  mean  of  death,  though  ne'er  so  mean. 

But '  banished  '  to  kill  me  ?— '  Banished  '  ? 

O  friar,  the  damned  use  that  word  in  hell ; 

Howling  attends  it :  how  hast  thou  the  heart, 

Being  a  divine,  a  ghostly  confessor, 

A  sin-absolver,  and  my  friend  profess'd,  50 

To  mangle  me  with  that  word  '  banished  '  ? 

Fri.  L.  Thou  fond  mad  man,  hear  me  but  speak  a  word. 

Rom.  O,  thou  wilt  speak  again  of  banishment. 

Fri.  L.  I  '11  give  thee  armour  to  keep  off  that  word  ; 
Adversity's  sweet  milk,  philosophy, 
To  comfort  thee,  though  thou  art  banished. 

Rom.  Yet  '  banished  '  ?    Hang  up  philosophy ! 
Unless  philosophy  can  make  a  Juliet, 
Displant  a  town,  reverse  a  prince's  doom, 
It  helps  not,  it  prevails  not :  talk  no  more.  60 

Fri.  L.  O,  then  I  see  that  madmen  have  no  ears. 

Rom.  How  should  they,  when  that  wise  men  have  no  eyes  ? 

Fri.  L.  Let  me  dispute  with  thee  of  thy  estate. 

Rom.  Thou  canst  not  speak  of  that  thou  dost  not  feel : 

94 


i 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Wert  thou  as  young  as  I,  Juliet  thy  love, 
An  hour  but  married,  Tybalt  murdered, 
'  Doting  like  me,  and  like  me  banished. 
Then  mightst  thou  speak,  then  mightst  thou  tear  thy 

hair, 
And  fall  upon  the  ground,  as  I  do  now, 
Taking  the  measure  of  an  unmade  grave.  70 

[Knocking  within. 
Fri.  L.  Arise ;  one  knocks ;  good  Romeo,  hide  thyself. 
Rom,  Not  I ;  unless  the  breath  of  heart-sick  groans 
Mist-like  infold  me  from  the  search  of  eyes. 

[Knocking. 
Fri.  L.  Hark,  how  they  knock !     Who  's  there  ?     Romeo, 
arise ; 
Thou  wilt  be  taken. — Stay  awhile ! — Stand  up ; 

[Knocking. 
Run  to  my  study. — By  and  by ! — God's  will. 
What  simpleness  is  this  ! — I  come,  I  come ! 

[Knocking. 
Who  knocks  so  hard?    whence  come  you?    what's 
your  will? 
Nurse.    [Within]   Let  me  come  in,  and  you  shall  know  my 
errand ; 
I  come  from  Lady  Juliet. 
Fri.  L.  Welcome,  then.  80 

Enter  Nurse. 

Nurse.  O  holy  friar,  O,  tell  me,  holy  friar, 

Where  is  my  lady's  lord,  where  's  Romeo  ? 
Fri.  L.  There  on  the  ground,  with  his  own  tears  made 

drunk. 
Nurse.  O,  he  is  even  in  my  mistress'  case, 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Just  in  her  case ! 

Fri.  L.  O  woeful  sympathy ! 

Piteous  predicament! 

Nurse.  Even  so  lies  she, 

Blubbering  and  weeping,  weeping  and  blubbering. 
Stand  up,  stand  up ;  stand,  an  you  be  a  man : 
For  Juliet's  sake,  for  her  sake,  rise  and  stand ; 
Why  should  you  fall  into  so  deep  an  O  ?  qo 

Rom.  Nurse! 

Nurse.  Ah  sir !   ah  sir !    Well,  death  's  the  end  of  all. 

Rom.  Spakest  thou  of  Juliet  ?  how  is  it  with  her  ? 
Doth  she  not  think  me  an  old  murderer. 
Now  I  have  stain 'd  the  childhood  of  our  joy 
With  blood  removed  but  little  from  her  own  ? 
Where  is  she  ?  and  how  doth  she  ?  and  what  says 
My  conceal'd  lady  to  our  cancell'd  love? 

Nurse.  O,  she  says  nothing,  sir,  but  weeps  and  weeps ; 

And  now  falls  on  her  bed  ;  and  then  starts  up,         lOO 
And  Tybalt  calls  ;  and  then  on  Romeo  cries, 
And  then  down  falls  again. 

Rom.  As  if  that  name, 

Shot  from  the  deadly  level  of  a  gun. 
Did  murder  her,  as  that  name's  cursed  hand 
Murder'd  her  kinsman.    O,  tell  me,  friar,  tell  me, 
In  what  vile  part  of  this  anatomy 
Doth  my  name  lodge  ?  tell  nit,  that  I  may  sack 
The  hateful  mansion.  [Drazving  his  sword. 

Fri,  L.  Hold  thy  desperate  hand : 

Art  thou  a  man  ?  thy  form  cries  out  thou  art : 
Thy  tears  are  womanish;  thy  wild  acts  denote      no 
The  unreasonable  fury  of  a  beast : 
-     Unseemly  woman  in  a  seeming  man 

96 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Or  ill-beseeming  beast  in  seeming  both ! 

Thou  hast  amazed  me  :  by  my  holy  order, 

I  thought  thy  disposition  better  tempered. 

Hast  thou  slain  Tybalt?  wilt  thou  slay  thyself? 

And  slay  thy  lady  that  in  thy  life  lives, 

By  doing  damned  hate  upon  thyself  ? 

Why  rail'st  thou  on  thy  birth,  the  heaven  and  earth? 

Since  birth  and  heaven  and  earth,  all  three  do  meet 

In  thee  at  once,  which  thou  at  once  wouldst  lose.    121 

Fie,  fie,  thou  shamest  thy  shape,  thy  love,  thy  wit ; 

Which,  like  a  usurer,  abound'st  in  all, 

And  usest  none  in  that  true  use  indeed 

Which  should  bedeck  thy  shape,  thy  love,  thy  wit : 

Thy  noble  shape  is  but  a  form  of  wax. 

Digressing  from  the  valour  of  a  man ; 

Thy  dear  love  sworn,  but  hollow  perjury, 

Killing  that  love  which  thou  hast  vow'd  to  cherish  ; 

Thy  wit,  that  ornament  to  shape  and  love,  130 

Mis-shapen  in  the  conduct  of  them  both. 

Like  powder  in  a  skilless  soldier's  flask, 

Is  set  a-fire  by  thine  own  ignorance. 

And  thou  dismember 'd  with  thine  own  defence. 

What,  rouse  thee,  man ;   thy  Juliet  is  alive. 

For  whose  dear  sake  thou  wast  but  lately  dead ; 

There  art  thou  happy :  Tybalt  would  kill  thee. 

But  thou  slew'st  Tybalt ;  there  art  thou  happy  too : 

The  law,  that  threaten'd  death,  becomes  thy  friend. 

And  turns  it  to  exile ;  there  art  thou  happy :  140 

A  pack  of  blessings  lights  upon  thy  back ; 

Happiness  courts  thee  in  her  best  array ; 

But,  like  a  misbehaved  and  sullen  wench, 

Thou  pout'st  upon  thy  fortune  and  thy  love : 

97 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Take  heed,  take  heed,  for  such  die  miserable. 

Go,  get  thee  to  thy  love,  as  was  decreed, 

Ascend  her  chamber,  hence  and  comfort  her : 

But  look  thou  stay  not  till  the  watch  be  set, 

For  then  thou  canst  not  pass  to  Mantua ; 

Where  thou  shalt  live  till  we  can  find  a  time  150 

To  blaze  your  marriage,  reconcile  your  friends, 

Beg  pardon  of  the  prince,  and,  call  thee  back 

With  twenty  hundred  thousand  times  more  joy 

Than  thou  went'st  forth  in  lamentation. 

Go  before,  nurse :   commend  me  to  thy  lady, 

And  bid  her  hasten  all  the  house  to  bed. 

Which  heavy  sorrow  makes  them  apt  unto : 

Romeo  is  coming. 

Nurse.  O  Lord,  I  could  have  stay'd  here  all  the  night 

To  hear  good  counsel :  O,  what  learning  is !  160 

My  lord,  I  '11  tell  my  lady  you  will  come. 

Kom.  Do  so,  and  bid  my  sweet  prepare  to  chide. 

Nurse.  Here,  sir,  a  ring  she  bid  me  give  you,  sir : 

Hie  you,  make  haste,  for  it  grows  very  late.      [Exit. 

Rom,  How  well  my  comfort  is  revived  by  this ! 

Fri,  L.  Go  hence ;  good  night ;   and  here  stands  all  your 
state : 
Either  be  gone  before  the  watch  be  set, 
Or  by  the  break  of  day  disguised  from  hence : 
Sojourn  in  Mantua;   I  '11  find  out  your  man. 
And  he  shall  signify  from  time  to  time  170 

Every  good  hap  to  you  that  chances  here : 
Give  me  thy  hand  ;  'tis  late :  farewell ;  good  night. 

Rom.  But  that  a  joy  past  joy  calls  out  on  me, 
It  were  a  grief,  so  brief  to  part  with  thee : 
Farewell.  [Exeunt 


98 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Scene  TV. 

A  room  in  Capiilet's  house. 
Enter  Capulet,  Lady  Capulet,  and  Paris. 

Cap.  Things  have  fall'n  out,  sir,  so  unluckily, 

That  we  have  had  no  time  to  move  our  daughter. 

Look  you,  she  loved  her  kinsman  Tybalt  dearly, 

And  so  did  I.    Well,  we  were  born  to  die. 

'Tis  very  late ;  she  '11  not  come  down  to-night : 

I  promise  you,  but  for  your  company, 

I  would  have  been  a-bed  an  hour  ago. 
Par.  These  times  of  woe  afford  no  time  to  woo. 

Madam,  good  night :  commend  me  to  your  daughter. 
La.  Cap.  I  will,  and  know  her  mind  early  to-morrow ;     lo 

To-night  she  's  mew'd  up  to  her  heaviness. 
Cap.  Sir  Paris,  I  will  make  a  desperate  tender 

Of  my  child's  love :  I  think  she  will  be  ruled 

In  all  respects  by  me ;  nay  more,  I  doubt  it  not. 

Wife,  go  you  to  her  ere  you  go  to  bed ; 

Acquaint  her  here  of  my  son  Paris'  love ; 

And  bid  her,  mark  you  me,  on  Wednesday  next — • 

But,  soft!    what  day  is  this? 
Par.  Alonday,  my  lord. 

Cap.  Monday !  ha,  ha !  Well,  Wednesday  is  too  soon  ; 

O'  Thursday  let  it  be :  o'  Thursday,  tell  her,  20 

She  shall  be  married  to  this  noble  earl. 

Will  you  be  ready  ?   do  you  like  this  haste  ? 

We  '11  keep  no  great  ado ;  a  friend  or  two; 

For,  hark  you,  Tybalt  being  slain  so  late, 

It  may  be  thought  we  held  him  carelessly, 

Being  our  kinsman,  if  we  revel  much : 

99 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Therefore  we  '11  have  some  half-a-dozen  friends, 

And  there  an  end.  But  what  say  you  to  Thursday  ? 
Par.  My  lord,  I  would  that  Thursday  were  to-morrow. 
Cap.  Well,  get  you  gone  :   o'  Thursday  be  it  then.  30 

Go  you  to  Juliet  ere  you  go  to  bed, 

Prepare  her,  wife,  against  this  wedding-day. 

Farewell,  my  lord.    Light  to  my  chamber,  ho! 

Afore  me,  it  is  so  very  very  late. 

That  we  may  call  it  early  by  and  by : 

Good  night.  [Exeunt, 

Scene  V. 

Capulefs  orchard. 
Enter  Romeo  and  Juliet,  above,  at  the  window, 

Jul.  Wilt  thou  be  gone  ?  it  is  not  yet  near  day : 
It  was  the  nightingale,  and  not  the  lark. 
That  pierced  the  fearful  hollow  of  thine  ear ; 
Nightly  she  sings  on  yond  pomegranate-tree : 
Believe  me,  love,  it  was  the  nightingale. 

Rom.  It  was  the  lark,  the  herald  of  the  morn. 

No  nightingale :  look,  love,  what  envious  streaks 
Do  lace  the  severing  clouds  in  yonder  east : 
Night's  candles  are  burnt  out,  and  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops :  10 

I  must  be  gone  and  live,  or  stay  and  die. 

Jul.  Yond  light  is  not  day-light,  I  know  it,  I : 
It  is  some  meteor  that  the  sun  exhales. 
To  be  to  thee  this  night  a  torch-bearer, 
And  light  thee  on  thy  way  to  Mantua : 
Therefore  stay  yet ;   thou  need'st  not  to  be  gone. 

Rom.  Let  me  be  ta'en,  let  me  be  put  to  death ; 

100 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

I  am  content,  so  thou  wilt  have  it  so. 

I  '11  say  yon  grey  is  not  the  morning's  eye, 

'Tis  but  the  pale  reflex  of  Cynthia's  brow ;  20 

Nor  that  is  not  the  lark,  whose  notes  do  beat 

The  vaulty  heaven  so  high  above  our  heads : 

I  have  more  care  to  stay  than  will  to  go : 

Come,  death,  and  welcome !   Juliet  wills  it  so. 

How  is  't,  my  soul  ?  let 's  talk :  it  is  not  day. 

Jul.  It  is,  it  is :  hie  hence,  be  gone,  away ! 
It  is  the  lark  that  sings  so  out  of  tune. 
Straining  harsh  discords  and  unpleasing  sharps. 
Some  say  the  lark  makes  sweet  division ; 
This  doth  not  so,  for  she  divideth  us :  30 

Some  say  the  lark  and  loathed  toad  change  eyes ; 
O,  now  I  would  they  had  changed  voices  too ! 
Since  arm  from  arm  that  voice  doth  us  affray. 
Hunting  thee  hence  with  hunts-up  to  the  day. 
O,  now  be  gone ;   more  light  and  light  it  grows. 

Rom.  More  light  and  light :  more  dark  and  dark  our  woes ! 

Enter  Nurse,  to  the  chamber. 

Nurse.  Madam! 

Jul.  Nurse? 

Nurse.  Your  lady  mother  is  coming  to  your  chamber : 

The  day  is  broke  ;  be  wary,  look  about.       [Exit.     40 
Jul.  Then,  window,  let  day  in,  and  let  life  out. 
Rom.  Farewell,  farewell !  one  kiss,  and  I  '11  descend. 

[Descends. 
Jul.  Art  thou  gone  so  ?  my  lord,  my  love,  my  friend ! 

I  must  hear  from  thee  every  day  in  the  hour, 

For  in  a  minute  there  are  many  days: 

O,  by  this  count  I  shall  be  much  in  years 

lOI 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Ere  I  again  behold  my  Romeo ! 
Rom.  Farewell! 

I  will  omit  no  opportunity 

That  may  convey  my  greetings,  love,  to  thee.  50 

Jul.  O,  think'st  thou  we  shall  ever  meet  again  ? 
Rom.  I  doubt  it  not ;  and  all  these  woes  shall  serve 

For  sweet  discourses  in  our  time  to  come. 
Jul.  O  God !  I  have  an  ill-divining  soul. 

iMethinks  I  see  thee,  now  thou  art  below, 
As  one  dead  in  the  bottom  of  a  tomb : 
Either  my  eyesight  fails  or  thou  look'st  pale. 
Rom.  And  trust  me,  love,  in  my  eye  so  do  you : 

Dry  sorrow  drinks  our  blood.     Adieu,  adieu !  [Exit. 
Jul.  p  fortune,  fortune !   all  men  call  thee  fickle :  60 

If  thou  art  fickle,  what  dost  thou  with  him 
That  is  renown'd  for  faith  ?     Be  fickle,  fortune ; 
For  then,  I  hope,  thou  wilt  not  keep  him  long, 
But  send  him  back. 
La.  Cap.   [  Within]  Ho,  daughter !  are  you  up  ? 
Jul.  Who  is  't  that  calls  ?   it  is  my  lady  mother ! 
Is  she  not  down  so  late,  or  up  so  early  ? 
What  unaccustom'd  cause  procures  her  hither  ? 

Enter  Lady  Capulet. 

La.  Cap.  Why,  how  now,  Juliet ! 

Jul.  Madam,  I  am  not  well. 

La.  Cap.  Evermore  weeping  for  your  cousin's  death  ?   70 

What,  wilt  thou  wash  him  from  his  grave  with  tears? 

An  if  thou  couldst,  thou  couldst  not  make  him  live ; 

Therefore  have  done :  some  grief  shows  much  of  love, 

But  much  of  grief  shows  still  some  want  of  wit. 
Jul.  Yet  let  me  weep  for  such  a  feeling  loss. 

102 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

La.  Cap.  So  shall  you  feel  the  loss,  but  not  the  friend 
Which  you  weep  for. 

Jul.  Feeling  so  the  loss, 

I  cannot  choose  but  ever  weep  the  friend. 

La.  Cap.  Well,  girl,  thou  weep'st  not  so  much  for  his  death 
As  that  the  villain  lives  which  slaughter'd  him.      80 

Jul.  What  villain,  madam? 

La.  Cap.  That  same  villain,  Romeo. 

Jul.   [Aside'\   Villain  and  he  be  many  miles  asunder. 
God  pardon  him !   I  do,  with  all  my  heart ; 
And  yet  no  man  like  he  doth  grieve  my  heart. 

La  Cap.  That  is  because  the  traitor  murderer  lives. 

Jul.  Ay,  madam,  from  the  reach  of  these  my  hands : 
Would  none  but  I  might  venge  my  cousin's  death ! 

La.  Cap.  We  will  have  vengeance  for  it,  fear  thou  not : 
Then  weep  no  more.     I  '11  send  to  one  in  Mantua, 
Where  that  same  banish'd  runagate  doth  live,         90 
Shall  give  him  such  an  unaccustom'd  dram 
That  he  shall  soon  keep  Tybalt  company : 
And  then,  I  hope,  thou  wilt  be  satisfied. 

Jul.  Indeed,  I  never  shall  be  satisfied 

With  Romeo,  till  I  behold  him — dead — 

Is  my  poor  heart  so  for  a  kinsman  vex'd. 

Madam,  if  you  could  find  out  but  a  man 

To  bear  a  poison,  I  would  temper  it. 

That  Romeo  should,  upon  receipt  thereof, 

Soon  sleep  in  quiet.     O,  how  my  heart  abhors       100 

To  hear  him  named,  and  cannot  come  to  him, 

To  wreak  the  love  I  bore  my  cousin 

Upon  his  body  that  hath  slaughter'd  him ! 

La.  Cap.  Find  thou  the  means,  and  I  '11  find  such  a  man. 
But  now  I  '11  tell  thee  joyful  tidings,  girl. 
103 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Jul.  And  joy  comes  well  in  such  a  needy  time : 
What  are  they,  I  beseech  your  ladyship? 

La.  Cap.  Well,  well,  thou  hast  a  careful  father,  child ; 
One  who,  to  put  thee  from  thy  heaviness, 
Hath  sorted  out  a  sudden  day  of  joy,  no 

That  thou  expect'st  not,  nor  I  look'd  not  for. 

Jul.  Madam,  in  happy  time,  what  day  is  that? 

La.  Cap.  Marry,  my  child,  early  next  Thursday  morn. 
The  gallant,  young,  and  noble  gentleman. 
The  County  Paris,  at  Saint  Peter's  Church, 
Shall  happily  make  thee  there  a  joyful  bride. 

Jul.  "Now,  by  Saint  Peter's  Church,  and  Peter  too, 
He  shall  not  make  me  there  a  joyful  bride. 
I  wonder  at  this  haste ;  that  I  must  wed 
Ere  he  that  should  be  husband  comes  to  woo.      120 
I  pray  you,  tell  my  lord  and  father,  madam, 
I  will  not  marry  yet ;  and,  when  I  do,  I  swear, 
It  shall  be  Romeo,  whom  you  know  I  hate. 
Rather  than  Paris.     These  are  news  indeed! 

La.  Cap.  Here  comes  your  father ;  tell  him  so  yourself, 
And  see  how  he  will  take  it  at  your  hands. 

Enter  Capulet  and  Nurse. 

Cap.  When  the  sun  sets,  the  air  doth  drizzle  dew ; 
But  for  the  sunset  of  my  brother's  son 
It  rains  downright. 

How  now!   a  conduit,  girl?  what,  still  in  tears?  130 
Evermore  showering  ?     In  one  little  body 
Thou  counterfeit'st  a  bark,  a  sea,  a  wind : 
For  still  thy  eyes,  which  I  may  call  the  sea. 
Do  ebb  and  flow  with  tears ;  the  bark  thy  body  is. 
Sailing  in  this  salt  flood ;  the  winds,  thy  sighs : 
104 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

Who  raging  with  thy  tears,  and  they  with  them, 
Without  a  sudden  calm  will  overset 
Thy  tempest-tossed  body.     How  now,  wife ! 
Have  you  deliver'd  to  her  our  decree? 

La.  Cap.  Ay,  sir ;  but  she  will  none,  she  gives  you  thanks. 
I  would  the  fool  were  married  to  her  grave !  141 

Cap.  Soft !  take  me  with  you,  take  me  with  you,  wife. 
How  !  will  she  none  ?  doth  she  not  give  us  thanks  ? 
Is  she  not  proud  ?  doth  she  not  count  her  blest. 
Unworthy  as  she  is,  that  we  have  wrought 
So  worthy  a  gentleman  to  be  her  bridegroom  ? 

Jul.  Not  proud,  you  have,  but  thankful  that  you  have : 
Proud  can  I  never  be  of  what  I  hate ; 
But  thankful  even  for  hate  that  is  meant  love.       149 

Cap.  How,  how !  how,  how  !  chop-logic !    What  is  this  ? 
'  Proud,'  and  '  I  thank  you,'  and  '  I  thank  you  not ' ; 
And  yet  '  not  proud  ' :   mistress  minion,  you, 
Thank  me  no  thankings,  nor  proud  me  no  prouds. 
But  fettle  your  fine  joints  'gainst  Thursday  next, 
To  go  with  Paris  to  Saint  Peter's  Church, 
Or  I  will  drag  thee  on  a  hurdle  thither. 
Out,  you  green-sickness  carrion !   out,  you  baggage ! 
You  tallow-face ! 

La.  Cap.  Fie,  fie  !   what,  are  you  mad  ? 

Jul.  Good  father,  I  beseech  you  on  my  knees, 

Hear  me  with  patience  but  to  speak  a  word.  160 

Cap.  Hang  thee,  young  baggage !   disobedient  wretch  ! 
I  tell  thee  what :  get  thee  to  church  o'  Thursday, 
Or  never  after  look  me  in  the  face : 
Speak  not,  reply  not,  do  not  answer  me ; 
My  fingers  itch.    Wife,  we  scarce  thought  us  blest 
That  God  had  lent  us  but  this  only  child ; 

los 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

But  now  I  see  this  one  is  one  too  much, 
And  that  we  have  a  curse  in  having  her : 
Out  on  her,  hilding ! 

Nurse.  God  in  heaven  bless  her ! 

You  are  to  blame,  my  lord,  to  rate  her  so.  170 

Cap.  And  why,  my  lady  wisdom  ?  hold  your  tongue. 
Good  prudence ;  smatter  with  your  gossips,  go. 

Nurse.  I  speak  no  treason. 

Cap.  O,  God  ye  god-den. 

Nurse.  May  not  one  speak  ? 

Cap.  Peace,  you  mumbling  fool ! 

Utter  your  gravity  o'er  a  gossip's  bowl ; 
For  here  we  need  it  not. 

La.  Cap.  You  are  too  hot. 

Cap.  God's  bread !   it  makes  me  mad : 

Day,  night,  hour,  tide,  time,  work,  play. 
Alone,  in  company,  still  my  care  hath  been 
To  have  her  match'd :   and  having  now  provided 
A  gentleman  of  noble  parentage,  181 

Of  fair  demesnes,  youthful,  and  nobly  train'd, 
Stuff'd,  as  they  say,  with  honourable  parts. 
Proportioned  as  one's  thought  would  wish  a  man; 
And  then  to  have  a  wretched  puling  fool, 
A  whining  mammet,  in  her  fortune's  tender. 
To  answer  '  I  '11  not  wed ;  I  cannot  love, 
I  am  too  young ;  I  pray  you,  pardon  me.' 
But,  an  you  will  not  wed,  I  '11  pardon  you : 
Graze  where  you  will,  you  shall  not  house  with  me : 
Look  to  't,  think  on  't,  I  do  not  use  to  jest.  191 

Thursday  is  near ;  lay  hand  on  heart,  advise : 
An  you  be  mine,  I  '11  give  you  to  my  friend  ; 
An  you  be  not,  hang,  beg,  starve,  die  in  the  streets, 
1 06 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

For,  by  my  soul,  1  '11  ne'er  acknowledge  thee, 
Nor  what  is  mine  shall  never  do  thee  good  : 
Trust  to  't,  bethink  you  ;  I  '11  not  be  forsworn.    [Exit. 
Jul.  Is  there  no  pity  sitting  in  the  clouds. 
That  sees  into  the  bottom  of  my  grief? 
O,  sweet  my  mother,  cast  me  not  away !  200 

Delay  this  marriage  for  a  month,  a  week  ; 
Or,  if  you  do  not,  make  the  bridal  bed 
In  that  dim  monument  where  Tybalt  lies. 
La.  Cap.  Talk  not  to  me,  for  I  '11  not  speak  a  word : 

Do  as  thou  wilt,  for  I  have  done  with  thee.         [Exit 
Jul.  O  God! — O  nurse,  how  shall  this  be  prevented? 
My  husband  is  on  earth,  my  faith  in  heaven ; 
How  shall  that  faith  return  again  to  earth, 
Unless  that  husband  send  it  me  from  heaven 
By  leaving  earth  ?  comfort  me,  counsel  me.  210 

Alack,  alack,  that  heaven  should  practise  stratagems 
Upon  so  soft  a  subject  as  myself ! 
What  say'st  thou  ?  hast  thou  not  a  word  of  joy  ? 
Some  comfort,  nurse. 
Nurse.  Faith,  here  it  is. 

Romeo  is  banish 'd,  and  all  the  world  to  nothing. 
That  he  dares  ne'er  come  back  to  challenge  you ; 
Or,  if  he  do,  it  needs  must  be  by  stealth. 
Then,  since  the  case  so  stands  as  now  it  doth, 
I  think  it  best  you  married  with  the  county. 
O,  he  's  a  lovely  gentleman  !  220 

Romeo 's  a  dishclout  to  him  :  an  eagle,  madam, 
Hath  not  so  green,  so  quick,  so  fair  an  eye 
As  Paris  hath.    Beshrew  my  very  heart, 
I  think  you  are  happy  in  this  second  match, 
For  it  excels  your  first :  or  if  it  did  not, 
107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Your  first  is  dead,  or  'twere  as  good  he  were 
As  living  here  and  you  no  use  of  him. 

Jul.  Speakest  thou  from  thy  heart? 

Nurse.  And  from  my  soul  too ; 

Else  beshrew  them  both. 

Jul.  Amen ! 

Nurse.  \V\\2X  ? 

Jul.  Well,  thou  hast  comforted  me  marvellous  much.  230 
Go  in,  and  tell  my  lady  I  am  gone, 
Having  displeased  my  father,  to  Laurence'  cell. 
To  make  confession  and  to  be  absolved. 

Nurse.  Marry,  I  will,  and  this  is  wisely  done.  [Exit. 

Jul.  Ancient  damnation  !    O  most  wicked  fiend ! 
Is  it  more  sin  to  wish  me  thus  forsworn. 
Or  to  dispraise  my  lord  with  that  same  tongue 
Which  she  hath  praised  him  with.above  compare 
So  many  thousand  times  ?    Go,  counsellor ; 
Thou  and  my  bosom  henceforth  shall  be  twain.     240 
I  '11  to  the  friar,  to  know  his  remedy : 
If  all  else  fail,  myself  have  power  to  die.  [Exit. 


ACT  FOURTH. 

Scene  I. 

Friar  Laurence's  cell. 

Enter  Friar  Laurence  and  Paris. 

Fri.  L.  On  Thursday,  sir?  the  time  is  very  short. 
Par.  My  father  Capulet  will  have  it  so  ; 

And  I  am  nothing  slow  to  slack  his  haste. 
Fri.  L.  You  say  you  do  not  know  the  lady's  mind 

Uneven  is  the  course ;  I  like  it  not. 
108 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Par.  Immoderately  she  weeps  for  Tybalt's  death, 
And  therefore  have  I  little  talk'd  of  love, 
For  Venus  smiles  not  in  a  house  of  tears. 
Now,  sir,  her  father  counts  it  dangerous 
That  she  doth  give  her  sorrow  so  much  sway,  lo 

And  in  his  wisdom  hastes  our  marriage. 
To  stop  the  inundation  of  her  tears, 
Which,  too  much  minded  by  herself  alone. 
May  be  put  from  her  by  society : 
Now  do  you  know  the  reason  of  this  haste. 

Fri.  L.   [Aside]   I  would  I  knew  not  why  it  should  be 
slow'd. 
Look,  sir,  here  comes  the  lady  toward  my  cell. 

Enter  Juliet. 

Par.  Happily  met,  my  lady  and  my  wife ! 

Jul.  That  may  be,  sir,  when  I  may  be  a  wife. 

Par.  That  may  be  must  be,  love,  on  Thursday  next.      20 

Jul.  What  must  be  shall  be. 

Fri.  L.  That 's  a  certain  text. 

Par.  Come  you  to  make  confession  to  this  father? 

Jul.  To  answer  that,  I  should  confess  to  you. 

Par.  Do  not  deny  to  him  that  you  love  me. 

Jul.  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  love  him. 

Par.  So  will  ye,  I  am  sure,  that  you  love  me. 

Jul.  If  I  do  so,  it  will  be  of  more  price, 

Being  spoke  behind  your  back,  than  to  your  face. 
Par.  Poor  soul,  thy  face  is  much  abused  with  tears. 
Jul.  The  tears  have  got  small  victory  by  that;  30 

For  it  was  bad  enough  before  their  spite. 
Par.  Thou  wrong'st  it  more  than  tears  with  that  report. 
Jul.  That  is  no  slander,  sir,  which  is  a  truth, 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  what  I  spake,  I  spake  it  to  my  face. 

Par.  Thy  face  is  mine,  and  thou  hast  slander'd  it. 

Jul.  It  may  be  so,  for  it  is  not  mine  own. 
Are  you  at  leisure,  holy  father,  now ; 
Or  shall  I  come  to  you  at  evening  mass  ? 

Fri.  L.  My  leisure  serves  me,  pensive  daughter,  now. 

My  lord,  we  must  entreat  the  time  alone.  40 

Par.  God  shield  I  should  disturb  devotion ! 

Juliet,  on  Thursday  early  will  I  rouse  ye : 

Till  then,  adieu,  and  keep  this  holy  kiss.  [Exit. 

Jul.  O,  shut  the  door,  and  when  thou  hast  done  so, 

Come  weep  with  me ;  past  hope,  past  cure,  past  help ! 

Fri.  L.  Ah,  Juliet,  I  already  know  thy  grief ; 
It  strains  me  past  the  compass  of  my  wits : 
I  hear  thou  must,  and  nothing  may  prorogue  it, 
On  Thursday  next  be  married  to  this  county. 

Jill.  Tell  me  not,  friar,  that  thou  hear'st  of  this,  50 

Unless  thou  tell  me  how  I  may  prevent  it : 
If  in  thy  wisdom  thou  canst  give  no  help, 
Do  thou  but  call  my  resolution  wise, 
And  with  this  knife  I  '11  help  it  presently. 
God  join'd  my  heart  and  Romeo's,  thou  our  hands ; 
And  ere  this  hand,  by  thee  to  Romeo's  seal'd, 
Shall  be  the  label  to  another  deed, 
Or  my  true  heart  with  treacherous  revolt 
Turn  to  another,  this  shall  slay  them  both : 
Therefore,  out  of  thy  long-experienced  time,  60 

Give  me  some  present  counsel ;   or,  behold, 
'Twixt  my  extremes  and  me  this  bloody  knife 
Shall  play  the  umpire,  arbitrating  that 
Which  the  commission  of  thy  years  and  art 
Could  to  no  issue  of  true  honour  bring. 

no 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Be  not  so  long  to  speak ;  I  long  to  die, 
If  what  thou  speak'st  speak  not  of  remedy. 

Fri.  L.  Hold,  daughter :   I  do  spy  a  kind  of  hope, 
Which  craves  as  desperate  an  execution 
As  that  is  desperate  which  we  would  prevent.         70 
If,  rather  than  to  marry  County  Paris, 
Thou  hast  the  strength  of  will  to  slay  thyself, 
Then  is  it  likely  thou  wilt  undertake 
A  thing  like  death  to  chide  aw^ay  this  shame. 
That  copest  with  death  himself  to  'scape  from  it ; 
And,  if  thou  darest,  I  '11  give  thee  remedy. 

Jul.  O,  bid  me  leap,  rather  than  marry  Paris, 
From  off  the  battlements  of  yonder  tower ; 
Or  walk  in  thievish  ways ;  or  bid  me  lurk 
Where  serpents  are ;  chain  me  with  roaring  bears  ; 
Or  shut  me  nightly  in  a  charnel-house,  81 

O'er-cover'd  quite  with  dead  men's  rattling  bones. 
With  reeky  shanks  and  yellow  chapless  skulls ; 
Or  bid  me  go  into  a  new-made  grave, 
And  hide  me  with  a  dead  man  in  his  shroud ; 
Things  that  to  hear  them  told,  have  made  me  tremble ; 
And  I  will  do  it  without  fear  or  doubt. 
To  live  an  unstain'd  wife  to  my  sweet  love. 

Fri.  L.  Hold,  then  ;  go  home,  be  merry,  give  consent 

To  marry  Paris  :   Wednesday  is  to-morrow  ;  90 

To-morrow  night  look  that  thou  lie  alone. 

Let  not  thy  nurse  lie  with  thee  in  thy  chamber : 

Take  thou  this  vial,  being  then  in  bed. 

And  this  distilled  liquor  drink  thou  off : 

When  presently  through  all  thy  veins  shall  run 

A  cold  and  drowsy  humour ;   for  no  pulse 

Shall  keep  his  native  progress,  but  surcease : 


Act  IV.  Sc.  1.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

No  warmth,  no  breath,  shall  testify  thou  livest ; 

The  roses  in  thy  lips  and  cheeks  shall  fade 

To  paly  ashes ;  thy  eyes'  windows  fall,  loo 

Like  death,  when  he  shuts  up  the  day  of  life ; 

Each  part,  deprived  of  supple  government, 

Shall,  stiff  and  stark  and  cold,  appear  like  death : 

And  in  this  borrow'd  likeness  of  shrunk  death 

Thou  shalt  continue  two  and  forty  hours. 

And  then  awake  as  from  a  pleasant  sleep. 

Now,  when  the  bridegroom  in  the  morning  comes 

To  rouse  thee  from  thy  bed,  there  art  thou  dead : 

Then,  as  the  manner  of  our  country  is, 

In  thy  best  robes  uncovered  on  the  bier  no 

Thou  shait  be  borne  to  that  same  ancient  vault 

Where  all  the  kindred  of  the  Capulets  lie. 

In  the  mean  time,  against  thou  shalt  awake, 

Shall  Romeo  by  my  letters  know  our  drift ; 

And  hither  shall  he  come :   and  he  and  I 

Will  watch  thy  waking,  and  that  very  night 

Shall  Romeo  bear  thee  hence  to  Mantua. 

And  this  shall  free  thee  from  this  present  shame. 

If  no  inconstant  toy  nor  womanish  fear 

Abate  thy  valour  in  the  acting  it.  120 

Jul.  Give  me,  give  me!     O,  tell  not  me  of  fear! 

Fri.  L.  Hold ;  get  you  gone,  be  strong  and  prosperous 
In  this  resolve :  I  '11  send  a  friar  with  speed 
To  Mantua,  with  my  letters  to  thy  lord. 

Jul.  Love  give  me  strength  !  and  strength  shall  help  afiford. 
Farewell,  dear  father !  [Exeunt. 


112 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Scene  II. 

Hall  in  Capiilct's  house. 

Enter  Capulet,  Lady  Capiilet,  Nurse,  and  two 
Servingmen. 

Cap.  So  many  guests  invite  as  here  are  writ. 

[Exit  First  Servant. 

Sirrah,  go  hire  me  twenty  cunning  cooks. 
Sec.  Serv.  You  shall  have  none  ill,  sir,  for  I  '11  try  if 

they  can  lick  their  fingers. 
Cap.  How  canst  thou  try  them  so? 
Sec.  Serv.  Marry,  sir,  'tis  an  ill  cook  that  cannot  lick 

his  own  fingers :    therefore  he  that  cannot  lick 

his  fingers  goes  not  with  me. 
Cap.  Go,  be  gone.  [Exit  Sec.  Servant. 

We  shall  be  much  unfurnish'd  for  this  time.  lo 

What,  is  my  daughter  gone  to  Friar  Laurence  ? 
Nurse.  Ay,  forsooth. 
Cap.  Well,  he  may  chance  to  do  some  good  on  her : 

A  peevish  self-will'd  harlotry  it  is. 

Enter  Juliet. 

Nurse.  See  where  she  comes  from  shrift  with  merry  look. 

Cap.  How  now,  my  headstrong!    where  have  you  been 
gadding  ? 

Jul.  Where  I  have  learn'd  me  to  repent  the  sin 
Of  disobedient  opposition 
To  you  and  your  behests,  and  am  enjoin'd 
By  holy  Laurence  to  fall  prostrate  here,  20 

To  beg  your  pardon  :  pardon,  I  beseech  you  ! 
Henceforward  I  am  ever  ruled  by  you. 

"3 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Cap.  Send  for  the  county ;  go  tell  him  of  this  : 

I  '11  have  this  knot  knit  up  to-morrow  mornijig. 

Jul.  I  met  the  youthful  lord  at  Laurence'  cell, 
And  gave  him  what  becomed  love  I  might, 
Not  stepping  o'er  the  bounds  of  modesty. 

Cap.  Why,  I  am  glad  on  't ;  this  is  well :  stand  up : 
This  is  as  't  should  be.  Let  me  see  the  county ; 
Ay,  marry,  go,  I  say,  and  fetch  him  hither.  30 

Now,  afore  God,  this  reverend  holy  friar, 
All  our  whole  city  is  much  bound  to  him. 

Jul.  Nurse,  will  you  go  with  me  into  my  closet, 
To  help  me  sort  such  needful  ornaments 
As  you  think  fit  to  furnish  me  to-morrow  ? 

La.  Cap.  No,  not  till  Thursday ;   there  is  time  enough. 

Cap.  Go,  nurse,  go  with  her :  we  '11  to  church  to-morrow. 

[Exeunt  Juliet  and  Nurse. 

La.  Cap.  We  shall  be  short  in  our  provision : 
'Tis  now  near  night. 

Cap.  Tush,  I  will  stir  about. 

And  all  things  shall  be  well,  I  warrant  thee,  wife :  40 

Go  thou  to  Juliet,  help  to  deck  up  her ; 

I  '11  not  to  bed  to-night ;  let  me  alone ; 

I  '11  play  the  housewife  for  this  once.     What,  ho ! 

They  are  all  forth :  well,  I  will  walk  myself 

To  County  Paris,  to  prepare  him  up 

Against  to-morrow :   my  heart  is  wondrous  light, 

Since  this  same  wayward  girl  is  so  reclaim'd. 

[Exeunt. 


"4 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

Scene  III. 

Juliet's  chamber. 

Enter  Juliet  and  Nurse. 

Jul.  Ay,  those  attires  are  best :  but,  gentle  nurse, 
I  pray  thee,  leave  me  to  myself  to-night ; 
For  I  have  need  of  many  orisons 
To  move  the  heavens  to  smile  upon  my  state. 
Which,  well  thou  know'st,  is  cross  and  full  of  sin. 

Enter  Lady  Capulet. 

La.  Cap.  What,  are  you  busy,  ho?  need  you  my  help? 

Jul.  No,  madam ;   we  have  cuU'd  such  necessaries 
As  are  behoveful  for  our  state  to-morrow : 
So  please  you,  let  me  now  be  left  alone, 
And  let  the  nurse  this  night  sit  up  with  you,  lo 

For  I  am  sure  you  have  your  hands  full  all 
In  this  so  sudden  business. 

La.  Cap.  Good  night : 

Get  thee  to  bed  and  rest,  for  thou  hast  need. 

[Exeunt  Lady  Capulet  and  Nurse. 

Jul.  Farewell !   God  knows  when  we  shall  meet  again. 
I  have  a  faint  cold  fear  thrills  through  my  veins,  ■ 
That  almost  freezes  up  the  heat  of  life : 
I  '11  call  them  back  again  to  comfort  me. 
Nurse! — What  should  she  do  here? 
My  dismal  scene  I  needs  must  act  alone. 
Come,  vial.  20 

What  if  this  mixture  do  not  work  at  all  ? 
Shall  I  be  married  then  to-morrow  morning? 
No,  no :  this  shall  forbid  it.     Lie  thou  there. 

[Laying  down  a  dagger, 

115 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

What  if  it  be  a  poison,  which  the  friar 
Subtly  hath  minister'd  to  have  me  dead, 
Lest  in  this  marriage  he  should  be  dishonour'd, 
Because  he  married  me  before  to  Romeo? 
I  fear  it  is :  and  yet,  methinks,  it  should  not, 
For  he  hath  still  been  tried  a  holy  man. 
How  if,  when  I  am  laid  into  the  tomb,  30 

I  wake  before  the  time  that  Romeo 
Come  to  redeem  me?   there  's  a  fearful  point. 
Shall  I  not  then  be  stifled  in  the  vault. 
To  whose  foul  mouth  no  healthsome  air  breathes  in, 
And  there  die  strangled  ere  my  Romeo  comes? 
Or,  if  I  live,  is  it  not  very  like, 
The  horrible  conceit  of  death  and  night. 
Together  with  the  terror  of  the  place. 
As  in  a  vault,  an  ancient  receptacle. 
Where  for  this  many  hundred  years  the  bones      40 
Of  all  my  buried  ancestors  are  pack'd ; 
Where  bloody  Tybalt,  yet  but  green  in  earth, 
Lies  festering  in  his  shroud ;   where,  as  they  say, 
At  some  hours  in  the  night  spirits  resort ; 
Alack,  alack,  is  it  not  like  that  I 
.  So  early  waking,  what  with  loathsome  smells 
And  shrieks  like  mandrakes'  torn  out  of  the  earth, 
That  living  mortals  hearing  them  run  mad : 
O,  if  I  wake,  shall  I  not  be  distraught. 
Environed  with  all  these  hideous  fears  ?  50 

And  madly  play  with  my  forefathers'  joints? 
And  pluck  the  mangled  Tybalt  from  his  shroud  ? 
And,  in  this  rage,  with  some  great  kinsman's  bone, 
As  with  a  club,  dash  out  my  desperate  brains  ? 
O,  look !  methinks  I  see  my  cousin's  ghost 
116 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  iv. 

Seeking  out  Romeo,  that  did  spit  his  body 
Upon  a  rapier's  point :  stay,  Tybalt,  stay  ! 
Romeo,  I  come !  this  do  I  drink  to  thee. 

[She  falls  upon  her  bed,  within  the  curtains. 

Scene  IV. 

Hall  in  Capu let's  house. 

Enter  Lady  Capulet  and  Nurse. 

La.  Cap.  Hold,  take  these  keys,  and  fetch  more  spices, 

nurse. 
Nurse.  They  call  for  dates  and  quinces  in  the  pastry. 

Enter  Capulet. 

Cap.  Come,  stir,  stir,  stir !  the  second  cock  hath  crow'd, 

The  curfew-bell  hath  rung,  'tis  three  o'clock : 

Look  to  the  baked  meats,  good  Angelica : 

Spare  not  for  cost. 
Nurse.  Go,  you  cot-quean,  go, 

Get  you  to  bed  ;  faith,  you  '11  be  sick  to-morrow 

For  this  night's  watching. 
Cap.  No,  not  a  whit :  what !  I  have  watch 'd  ere  now 

All  night  for  lesser  cause,  and  ne'er  been  sick.  lo 

La.  Cap.  Ay,  you  have  been  a  mouse-hunt  in  your  time  ; 

But  I  will  watch  you  from  such  watching  now. 

[Exeunt  Lady  Capulet  and  Nurse. 
Cap.  A  jealous-hood,  a  jealous-hood! 

Enter  three  or  four  Servingmen,  with  spits,  and  logs, 
and  baskets. 

Now,  fellow, 
What 's  there  ? 
First  Serv.  Things  for  the  cook,  sir,  but  I  know  not  what. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Cap.  Make  haste,  make  haste.   [Exit  First  Serv.]    Sirrah, 
fetch  drier  logs : 
Call  Peter,  he  will  show  thee  where  they  are. 
Sec.  Serv.  I  have  a  head,  sir,  that  will  find  out  logs, 

And  never  trouble  Peter  for  the  matter. 
Cap.  Mass,  and  well  said  ;  a  merry  whoreson,  ha ! 

Thou  shalt  be  logger-head.     [Exit  Sec.  Serv.^     Good 
faith,  'tis  day :  20 

The  county  will  be  here  with  music  straight. 
For  so  he  said  he  would.     [Music  within.]     I  hear 

him  near. 
Nurse !  Wife !   What,  ho !  What,  nurse,  I  say ! 

Re-enter  Nurse. 

Go  waken  Juliet,  go  and  trim  her  up ; 
I  '11  go  and  chat  with  Paris  :  hie,  make  haste. 
Make  haste  :  the  bridegroom  he  is  come  already : 
Make  haste,  I  say.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  t 

Juliet's  chamber. 

Enter  Nurse. 

Nurse.  Mistress !  what,  mistress !  Juliet !  fast,  I  warrant 
her,  she : 
Why,  lamb !  why,  lady !  fie,  you  slug-a-bed ! 
W^hy,  love,  I  say !  madam  !  sweet-heart !  why,  bride ! 
What,  not  a  word  ?  you  take  your  pennyworths  now ; 
Sleep  for  a  week ;  for  the  next  night,  I  warrant, 
The  County  Paris  hath  set  up  his  rest 
That  you  shall  rest  but  little.    God  forgive  me, 
Marry,  and  amen,  how  sound  is  she  asleep ! 

^  118 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  v. 

I  needs  must  wake  her.    Madam,  madam,  madam ! 
Ay,  let  the  county  take  you  in  your  bed  ;  lo 

He  '11  fright  you  up,  i'  faith.    Will  it  not  be  ? 

[Undrazi's  the  curtains. 
What,    dress'd !     and    in    your   clothes !     and    down 

again ! 
X  must  needs  wake  you.    Lady !  lady !  lady ! 
Alas,  alas  I     Help,  help !  my  lady  's  dead ! 
O,  well-a-day,  that  ever  I  was  born ! 
Some  aqua-vitae,  ho !    My  lord !   my  lady ! 

Enter  Lady  Capiilet. 

La.  Cap.  What  noise  is  here  ? 

Nurse.  O  lamentable  day ! 

La.  Cap.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

Nurse.  Look,  look  !    O  heavy  day ! 

La.  Cap.  O  me,  O  me !     My  child,  my  only  life, 

Revive,  look  up,  or  I  will  die  with  thee.  20 

Help,  help !  call  help. 

Enter  Capiilet. 

Cap.  For  shame,  bring  Juliet  forth ;  her  lord  is  come. 
Nurse.  She  's  dead,  deceased,  she  's  dead ;  alack  the  day ! 
La.  Cap.  Alack  the  day,  she 's  dead,  she 's  dead,  she 's 

dead  I 
Cap.  Ha !  let  me  see  her.    Out,  alas  !  she  's  cold ; 

Her  blood  is  settled  and  her  joints  are  stiff; 

Life  and  these  lips  have  long  been  separated. 

Death  lies  on  her  like  an  untimely  frost 

Upon  the  sweetest  flower  of  all  the  field. 
Nurse.  O  lamentable  day ! 
La.  Cap.  O  woeful  time !  30 

119  J 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Cap.  Death,  that  hath  ta'en  her  hence  to  make  me  wail, 
Ties  up  my  tongue  and  will  not  let  me  speak. 

Enter  Friar  Laurence  and  Paris,  with  Musicians. 

Fri.  L.  Come,  is  the  bride  ready  to  go  to  church  ? 
Cap.  Ready  to  go,  but  never  to  return. 

O  son,  the  night  before  thy  wedding-day 

Hath  death  lain  with  thy  wife :  see,  there  she  lies, 

Flower  as  she  was,  deflowered  by  him. 

Death  is  my  son-in-law,  death  is  my  heir ; 

My  daughter  he  hath  wedded :  I  will  die, 

And  leave  him  all ;  life,  living,  all  is  Death's.  40 

Par.  Have  I  thought  long  to  see  this  morning's  face, 

And  doth  it  give  me  such  a  sight  as  this  ? 
La.  Cap.  Accurst,  unhappy,  wretched,  hateful  day! 

Most  miserable  hour  that  e'er  time  saw 

In  lasting  labour  of  his  pilgrimage ! 

But  one,  poor  one,  one  poor  and  loving  child. 

But  one  thing  to  rejoice  and  solace  in. 

And  cruel  death  hath  catch'd  it  from  my  sight! 
Nurse.  O  woe  I  O  woeful,  woeful,  woeful  day ! 

Most  lamentable  day,  most  woeful  day,  50 

That  ever,  ever,  I  did  yet  behold ! 

O  day  I  O  day  I  O  day !  O  hateful  day ! 

Never  was  seen  so  black  a  day  as  this : 

O  woeful  day,  O  woeful  day ! 
Par.  Beguiled,  divorced,  wronged,  spited,  slain, 

Most  detestable  death,  by  thee  beguiled. 

By  cruel  cruel  thee  quite  overthrown  ! 

O  love !  O  life !  not  life,  but  love  in  death  I 
Cap.  Despised,  distressed,  hated,  martyr'd,  kill'd! 

Uncomfortable  time,  why  camest  thou  now  60 

#  120 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  IV.  Sc.  v. 

To  murder,  murder  our  solemnity? 
O  child !   O  child !   my  soul,  and  not  my  child ! 
Dead  art  thou  !     Alack,  my  child  is  dead  ; 
And  with  my  child  my  joys  are  buried! 

Fri.  L.  Peace,  ho,  for  shame !   confusion's  cure  lives  not 
In  these  confusions.     Heaven  and  yourself 
Had  part  in  this  fair  maid ;  now  heaven  hath  all, 
And  all  the  better  is  it  for  the  maid : 
Your  part  in  her  you  could  not  keep  from  death ; 
But  heaven  keeps  his  part  in  eternal  life.  70 

The  most  you  sought  was  her  promotion, 
For  'twas  your  heaven  she  should  be  advanced : 
And  weep  ye  now,  seeing  she  is  advanced 
Above  the  clouds,  as  high  as  heaven  itself? 
O,  in  this  love,  you  love  your  child  so  ill, 
That  you  run  mad,  seeing  that  she  is  well : 
She  's  not  well  married  that  lives  married  long. 
But  she  's  best  married  that  dies  married  young. 
Dry  up  your  tears,  and  stick  your  rosemary 
On  this  fair  corse,  and,  as  the  custom  is,  80 

In  all  her  best  array  bear  her  to  church : 
For  though  fond  nature  bids  us  all  lament. 
Yet  nature's  tears  are  reason's  merriment. 

Cap.  All  things  that  we  ordained  festival, 
Turn  from  their  office  to  black  funeral : 
Our  instruments  to  melancholy  bells ; 
Our  wedding  cheer  to  a  sad  burial  feast ; 
Our  solemn  hymns  to  sullen  dirges  change; 
Our  bridal  flowers  serve  for  a  buried  corse. 
And  all  things  change  them  to  the  contrary.  90 

Fri.  L.  Sir,  go  you  in  ;   and,  madam,  go  with  him  ; 
And  go,  Sir  Paris  ;  every  one  prepare 
121 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

To  follow  this  fair  corse  unto  her  grave : 

The  heavens  do  lour  upon  you  for  some  ill ; 

Move  them  no  more  by  crossing  their  high  will. 

[Exeunt  Capulet,  Lady  Capulet,  Paris,  and  Friar. 
First  Mus.  Faith,  we  may  put  up  our  pipes,  and  be  gone. 
Nurse.  Honest  good  fellows,  ah,  put  up,  put  up ; 

For,  well  you  know,  this  is  a  pitiful  case.  [Exit. 

First  Mus.  Ay,    by    my    troth,    the    case    may    be 

amended.  lOO 

Enter  Peter. 

Pet.  Musicians,  O,  musicians,  '  Heart's  ease,  Heart's 

ease : '     O,    an    you    will    have    me    live,    play 

'  Heart's  ease.' 
First  Mus.  Why  *  Heart's  ease  '  ? 
Pet.  O,  musicians,  because  my  heart  itself  plays  '  My 

heart  is  full  of  woe : '     O,  play  me  some  merry 

dump,  to  comfort  me. 
First  Mus.  Not  a  dump  we ;  'tis  no  time  to  play  now. 
Pet.  You  will  not  then? 

First  Mus.  No.  no 

Pet.  I  will  then  give  it  you  soundly. 
First  Mus.  What  will  you  give  us  ? 
Pet.  No  money,  on  my  faith,  but  the  glee^J    I  will 

give  you  the  minstrel. 
First  Mus.  Then  will  I  give  you  the  serving-creature. 
Pet.  Then  will  I  lay  the  serving-creature's  dagger  on 

your  pate.     I  will  carry  no  crotchets :    I  '11  re 

you,  I  '11  fa  you ;   do  you  note  me  ? 
First  Mus.  An  you  re  us  and  fa  us,  you  note  us. 
Sec.  Mus.  Pray  you,  put  up  your  dagger,  and  put  I20 

out  your  wit. 
Pet.  Then  have  at  you  with  my  wit !   I  will  dry-beat 

122 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

you  with  an  iron  wit,  and  put  up  my  iron  dagger. 
Answer  me  like  men : 

*  When  griping  grief  the  heart  doth  wound 
And  doleful  dumps  the  mind  oppress, 
Then  music  with  her  silver  sound  ' — 

why  '  silver  sound  '  ?  why  '  music  with  her  silver 
sound  '  ? — What  say  you,  Simon  Catling  ? 

First  Mils.  Marry,  sir,  because  silver  hath  a  sweet  sound. 

P^L  Pretty!     What  say  you,  Hugh  Rebeck ?  131 

Sec.  Mus.  I  say,  '  silver  sound,'  because  musicians 
sound  for  silver. 

Pet.  Pretty  too !     What  say  you,  James  Soundpost  ? 

Third  Mus.  Faith,  I  know  not  what  to  say. 

Pet.  O,  I  cry  you  mercy ;  you  are  the  singer :  I  will 
say  for  you.  It  is  '  music  with  her  silver  sound,' 
because  musicians  have  no  gold  for  sounding : 

'  Then  music  with  her  silver  sound 
With  speedy  help  doth  lend  redress.'  [Exit. 

First  Mils.  What  a  pestilent  knave  is  this  same !  141 

Sec.  Mus.  Hang  him,  Jack !     Come,  we  '11  in  here  ; 

tarry  for  the  mourners,  and  stay  dinner.     [Exeunt. 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

Mantua.     A  street. 

Enter  Romeo. 

Rom.  If  I  may  trust  the  flattering  truth  of  sleep, 
My  dreams  presage  some  joyful  news  at  hand : 
My  bosom's  lord  sits  lightly  in  his  throne, 

123 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  all  this  day  an  unaccustom'd  spirit 

Lifts  me  above  the  ground  with  cheerful  thoughts. 

I  dreamt  my  lady  came  and  found  me  dead — 

Strange  dream,  that  gives  a  dead  man  leave  to  think ! — 

And  breathed  such  life  with  kisses  in  my  lips, 

That  I  revived  and  was  an  emperor. 

Ah  me !  how  sweet  is  love  itself  possess'd,  lo 

When  but  love's  shadows  are  so  rich  in  joy ! 

Enter  Balthasar,  hooted^ 

News  from  Verona !     How  now,  Balthasar ! 

Dost  thou  not  bring  me  letters  from  the  friar  ? 

How  doth  my  lady  ?     Is  my  father  well  ? 

How  fares  my  Juliet  ?  that  I  ask  again ; 

For  nothing  can  be  ill,  if  she  be  well. 
Bal.  Then  she  is  well,  and  nothing  can  be  ill : 

Her  body  sleeps  in  Capels'  monument, 

And  her  immortal  part  with  angels  lives. 

I  saw  her  laid  low  in  her  kindred's  vault,  20 

And  presently  took  post  to  tell  it  you : 

O,  pardon  me  for  bringing  these  ill  news, 

Since  you  did  leave  it  for  my  office,  sir. 
Rom.  Is  it  e'en  so  ?  then  I  defy  you,  stars ! 

Thou  know'st  my  lodging :   get  me  ink  and  paper, 

And  hire  post-horses ;   I  will  hence  to-night. 
Bal.  I  do  beseech  you,  sir,  have  patience : 

Your  looks  are  pale  and  wild,  and  do  import 

Some  misadventure. 
Rom.  Tush,  thou  art  deceived : 

Leave  me,  and  do  the  thing  I  bid  thee  do.  30 

Hast  thou  no  letters  to  me  from  the  friar  ? 
Bal.  No,  my  good  lord. 

124 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Rom.  No  matter :  get  thee  gone, 

And  hire  those  horses ;   I  '11  be  with  thee  straight.        ICCsuu 

[Exit  Balthasar.ljig^^^ 
Well,  Tulie^,J[j\-ill  lie  with  thee,  torniglit.  /'(^S^* 

Let 's  see  for  means : — O  mischief,  thou  art  swift  //» 

And  hereabouts  a'  dwells,  which  late  I  noted         ^*^*<ic<^ 


To  enter  in  the  thong-hts  of  despeTatejrien  ! 
I  do  remember  an  apothecary, 


In  tatter'd  weeds,  with  overwhelming  brows, 

Culling  of  simples  ;  meagre  were  his  looks  ;  40 

Sharp  misery  had  worn  him  to  the  bones : 

And  in  his  needy  shop  a  tortoise  hung, 

An  alligator  stuff'd  and  other  skins 

Of  ill-shaped  fishes ;   and  about  his  shelves 

A  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes, 

Green  earthen  pots,  bladders  and  musty  seeds. 

Remnants  of  packthread  and  old  cakes  of  roses. 

Were  thinly  scattered,  to  make  up  a  show. 

Noting  this  penury,  to  myself  I  said. 

An  if  a  man  did  need  a  poison  now,  50 

Whose  sale  is  present  death  in  Mantua, 

Here  lives  a  caitiff  wretch  would  sell  it  him. 

O,  this  same  thought  did  but  forerun  my  need, 

And  this  same  needy  man  must  sell  it  me. 

As  I  remember,  this  should  be  the  house: 

Being  holiday,  the  beggar's  shop  is  shut. 

What,  ho !   apothecary ! 

Enter  Apothecary. 

Ap.  Wlio  calls  so  loud? 

Rom.  Come  hither,  man.     I  see  that  thou  art  poor ; 
Hold,  there  is  forty  ducats :    let  me  have 

125 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

A  dram  of  poison ;  such  soon-speeding  gear  60 

As  will  disperse  itself  through  all  the  veins, 

That  the  life-weary  taker  may  fall  dead, 

And  that  the  trunk  may  be  discharged  of  breath 

As  violently  as  hasty  powder  fired 

Doth  hurry  from  the  fatal  cannon's  womb. 

Ap.  Such  mortal  drugs  I  have ;  but  Mantua's  law 
Is  death  to  any  he  that  utters  them. 

Rom.  Art  thou  so  bare  and  full  of  wretchedness, 
And  f ear'st  to  die  ?  famine  is  in  thy  cheeks. 
Need  and  oppression  starveth  in  thy  eyes,  70 

Contempt  and  beggary  hangs  upon  thy  back, 
The  world  is  not  thy  friend,  nor  the  world's  law : 
The  world  affords  no  law  to  make  thee  rich ; 
Then  be  not  poor,  but  break  it,  and  take  this. 

Ap.  My  poverty,  but  not  my  will,  consents. 

Rom.  I  pay  thy  poverty  and  not  thy  will. 

Ap.  Put  this  in  any  Hquid  thing  you  will, 

And  drink  it  off ;   and,  if  you  had  the  strength 
Of  twenty  men,  it  would  dispatch  you  straight. 

Rom.  There  is  thy  gold,  worse  poison  to  men's  souls,     80 
Doing  more  murder  in  this  loathsome  world. 
Than  these  poor  compounds  that  thou  mayst  not 

sell : 
I  sell  thee  poison,  thou  hast  sold  me  none. 
Farewell :  buy  food,  and  get  thyself  in  flesh. 
Come,  cordial  and  not  poison,  go  with  me 
To  Juliet's  grave ;  for  there  must  I  use  thee. 

[Exeunt. 


126 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Scene  II. 

Friar  Laurence's  cell. 
Enter  Friar  John. 
Fri.  J.  Holy  Franciscan  friar !  brother,  ho ! 

Enter  Friar  Laurence. 

Fri.  L.  This  same  should  be  the  voice  of  Friar  John. 

Welcome  from  Mantua:   what  says  Romeo? 

Or,  if  his  mind  be  writ,  give  me  his  letter. 
Fri.  J.  Going  to  find  a  bare-foot  brother  out, 

One  of  our  order,  to  associate  me. 

Here  in  this  city  visiting  the  sick, 

And  finding  him,  the  searchers  of  the  town, 

Suspecting  that  we  both  were  in  a  house 

Where  the  infectious  pestilence  did  reign,  lo 

Seal'd  up  the  doors  and  would  not  let  us  forth ; 

So  that  my  speed  to  Mantua  there  was  stay'd. 
Fri.  L.  Who  bare  my  letter  then  to  Romeo  ? 
Fri.  J.  I  could  not  send  it, — here  it  is  again, — 

Nor  get  a  messenger  to  bring  it  thee. 

So  fearful  were  they  of  infection. 
Fri.  L.  Unhappy  fortune !  by  my  brotherhood, 

The  letter  was  not  nice,  but  full  of  charge 

Of  dear  import,  and  the  neglecting  it 

May  do  much  danger.     Friar  John,  go  hence ;       20 

Get  me  an  iron  crow  and  bring  it  straight 

Unto  my  cell. 
Fri.  J.  Brother,  I  '11  go  and  bring  it  thee.  [Exit. 

Fri.  L.  Now  must  I  to  the  monument  alone ; 

Within  this  three  hours  will  fair  Juliet  wake : 
127 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

She  will  beshrew  me  much  that  Romeo 
Hath  had  no  notice  of  these  accidents ; 
But  I  will  write  again  to  Mantua, 
And  keep  her  at  my  cell  till  Romeo  come : 
Poor  living  corse,  closed  in  a  dead  man's  tomb!      30 

[Exit. 

Scene  III. 

A  churchyard ;  in  it  a  monument  belonging  to  the 
Capulets. 

Enter  Paris  and  his  Page,  bearing  iiozvers  and  a  torch. 

Par.  Give  me  thy  torch,  boy :   hence,  and  stand  aloof : 
Yet  put  it  out,  for  I  would  not  be  seen. 
Under  yond  yew-trees  lay  thee  all  along. 
Holding  thine  ear  close  to  the  hollow  ground ; 
So  shall  no  foot  upon  the  churchyard  tread, 
Being  loose,  unfirm,  with  digging  up  of  graves, 
But  thou  shalt  hear  it:   whistle  then  to  me, 
As  signal  that  thou  hear'st  something  approach. 
Give  me  those  flowers.     Do  as  I  bid  thee,  go. 
Page.  [Aside]   I  am  almost  afraid  to  stand  alone  10 

Here  in  the  churchyard ;   yet  I  will  adventure. 

[Retires. 
Par.  Sweet  flower,  with  flowers  thy  bridal  bed  I  strew, — 
O  woe !   thy  canopy  is  dust  and  stones  ; — 
Which  with  sweet  water  nightly  I  will  dew. 

Or,  wanting  that,  with  tears  distill'd  by  moans : 
The  obsequies  that  I  for  thee  will  keep 
Nightly  shall  be  to  strew  thy  grave  and  weep. 

[The  Page  whistles. 
The  boy  gives  warning  something  doth  approach. 
What  cursed  foot  wanders  this  way  to-night, 
128 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

To  cross  my  obsequies  and  true  love's  rite  ?  20 

What,  with  a  torch !    Muffle  me,  night,  a  while. 

[Retires. 

Enter  Romeo  and  Balthasar,  zvith  a  torch,  mattock,  etc. 

Rom.  Give  me  that  mattock  and  the  wrenching  iron. 
Hold,  take  this  letter ;  early  in  the  morning 
See  thou  deliver  it  to  my  lord  and  father. 
Give  me  the  light :  upon  thy  life,  I  charge  thee, 
Whate'er  thou  hear'st  or  seest,  stand  all  aloof. 
And  do  not  interrupt  me  in  my  course. 
Why  I  descend  into  this  bed  of  death 
Is  partly  to  behold  my  lady's  face, 
But  chiefly  to  take  thence  from  her  dead  finger        30 
A  precious  ring,  a  ring  that  I  must  use 
In  dear  employment :  therefore  hence,  be  gone : 
But  if  thou,  jealous,  dost  return  to  pry 
In  what  I  farther  shall  intend  to  do, 
By  heaven,  I  will  tear  thee  joint  by  joint 
And  strew  this  hungry  churchyard  with  thy  limbs : 
The  time  and  my  intents  are  savage-wild. 
More  fierce  and  more  inexorable  by  far 
Than  empty  tigers  or  the  roaring  sea. 

Bal.  I  will  be  gone,  sir,  and  not  trouble  you.  40 

Rom.  So   shalt   thou   show   me   friendship.     Take   thou 
that: 
Live,  and  be  prosperous :  and  farewell,  good  fellow. 

Bal.   [Aside^^   For  all  this  same,  I  '11  hide  me  hereabout : 
His  looks  I  fear,  and  his  intents  I  doubt.        [Retires. 

Rom.  Thou  detestable  maw,  thou  womb  of  death, 
Gorged  with  the  dearest  morsel  of  the  earth. 
Thus  I  enforce  thy  rotten  jaws  to  open, 
129 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  in  despite  I  '11  cram  thee  with  more  food. 

[Opens  the  tomb. 

Par.  This  is  that  banish'd  haughty  Montague 

That  murder'd  my  love's  cousin,  with  which  grief, 
It  is  supposed,  the  fair  creature  died,  51 

And  here  is  come  to  do  some  villanous  shame 
To  the  dead  bodies  :  I  will  apprehend  him. 

[Comes  forward. 
Stop  thy  unhallow'd  toil,  vile  IMontague ! 
Can  vengeance  be  pursued  further  than  death  ? 
Condemned  villain,  I  do  apprehend  thee : 
Obey,  and  go  with  me ;   for  thou  must  die. 

Rom.  I  must  indeed,  and  therefore  came  I  hither. 
Good  gentle  youth,  tempt  not  a  desperate  man ; 
Fly  hence  and  leave  me :  think  upon  these  gone ;     60 
Let  them  affright  thee.  .  I  beseech  thee,  youth. 
Put  not  another  sin  upon  my  head. 
By  urging  me  to  fury :  O,  be  gone ! 
By  heaven,  I  love  thee  better  than  myself. 
For  I  come  hither  arm'd  against  myself : 
Stay  not,  be  gone :  live,  and  hereafter  say, 
A  madman's  mercy  bid  thee  run  away. 

Par.  I  do  defy  thy  conjurations 

And  apprehend  thee  for  a  felon  here. 

Ro7n.  Wilt  thou  provoke  me  ?  then  have  at  thee,  boy !     70 

[They  fight. 

Page.  O  Lord,  they  fight !  I  will  go  call  the  watch. 

[Exit. 

Par.  0,1  am  slain!    [Falls.]    If  thou  be  merciful, 

Open  the  tomb,  lay  me  with  Juliet.  [Dies. 

Rom.  In  faith,  I  will.    Let  me  peruse  this  face : 
Mercutio's  kinsman,  noble  County  Paris ! 
130 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

What  said  my  man,  when  my  betossed  soul 

Did  not  attend  him  as  we  rode  ?    I  think 

He  told  me  Paris  should  have  married  Juliet : 

Said  he  not  so  ?  or  did  I  dream  it  so  ? 

Or  am  I  mad,  hearing  him  talk  of  Juliet,  80 

To  think  it  was  so  ?    O,  give  me  thy  hand, 

One  writ  with  me  in  sour  misfortune's  book ! 

I  '11  bur}^  thee  in  a  triumphant  grave ; 

A  grave  ?     O,  no,  a  lantern,  slaughter'd  youth ; 

For  here  lies  Juliet,  and  her  beauty  makes 

This  vault  a^feasting  presence  full  of  light. 

Death,  lie  thou  there,  by  a  dead  man  interr'd. 

[Laying  Paris  in  the  monument. 
How  oft  when  men  are  at  the  point  of  death 
Have  they  been  merry  !  which  their  keepers  call 
A  lightning  before  death  :  O,  how  may  I  ^^     ^ 

Call  this  a  lightning  ?    O  my  love  !  my  wife !         /  ii^JLficcf 
Death,  that  hath  suck'd  the  honev  of  thv  breath/^ 
Hath  had  no  power  yet  upon  thy  beauty :  [  "T^  Py 

Thou  art  not  conquer'd  ;  beatity^  ensign  yet     /"  ^^^^ 
Is  crimson  in  thy  lips  and  in  thy_cheeks,  j  Ax^^  ^ 

And  death ^s  pale  flag  is  not'advanced  there.  I^ujLlo  d2td 
Tybalt,  liest  thou  there  in  thy  bloody  sheet?  /  ^/a^*^  s 
O,  what  more  favour  can  I  do  to  thee  '  -^       / 

Than  with  that  hand  that  cut  thy  youth  in  twain     ^w-€o& 
To  sunder  his  that  was  thine  enemy?  100 

Forgive  me,  cousin !    Ah,  dear  Juliet,  ^ 

Why  art  thou  yet  so  fair  ?  shall  I  believe 
That  unsubstantial  death  is  amorous, 
And  that  the  lean  abhorred  monster  keeps 
Thee  here  in  dark  to  be  his  paramour  ? 
For  fear  of  that,  I  still  will  stay  with  thee, 

131 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

And  never  from  this  palace  of  dim  night 

Depart  again :  here,  here  will  I  remain 

With  worms  that  are  thy  chamber-maids ;  O,  here 

Will  I  set  up  my  everlastingixest,  no 

And_shake  the  yoke  of  inauspicious  stars 

From  this  world-\yearied  flesh.     Eyes,  look  your  last ! 

Arms,  take  your  last  embrace !  and,  lips,  O  you 

The  doors  of  breath,  seal  with  a  righteous  kiss 

A  dateless  bargain  to  engrossing  death ! 

Come,  bitter  conduct,  come,  unsavoury  guide ! 

Thou  desperate  pilot,  now  at  once  run  on 

The  dashing  rocks  thy  sea-sick  weary  bark.  ii8 

Here  's  to  my  love !    [Drinks.]   O  true  apothecary ! 

Thy  drugs  are  quick.    Thus  with  a  kiss  I  die.     [Dies. 

Enter,  at  the  other  end  of  the  churchyard,  Friar  Laurence, 
with  a  lantern,  crozu,  and  spade. 

Fri.  L.  Saint  Francis  be  my  speed  !  how  oft  to-night 

Have  my  old  feet  stumbled  at  graves  !    Who  's  there  ? 

Bal.  Here  's  one,  a  friend,  and  one  that  knows  you  well. 

Fri.  L.  Bliss  be  upon  you !    Tell  me,  good  my  friend, 
What  torch  is  yond  that  vainly  lends  his  light 
To  grubs  and  eyeless  skulls  ?  as  I  discern. 
It  burneth  in  the  Capels'  monument. 

Bal.  It  doth  so,  holy  sir ;  and  there  's  my  master, 
One  that  you  love. 

Fri.  L.  Who  is  it  ? 

Bal.  Romeo. 

Fri.  L.  How  long  hath  he  been  there  ? 

Bal.  Full  half  an  hour.  130 

Fri.  L.  Go  with  me  to  the  vault. 

Bal.  I  dare  not,  sir : 

132 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

My  master  knows  not  but  I  am  gone  hence ; 

And  fearfully  did  menace  me  with  death, 

If  I  did  stay  to  look  on  his  intents. 
Fri.  L.  Stay,  then  ;  I  '11  go  alone  :  fear  comes  upon  me ; 

O,  much  I  fear  some  ill  unlucky  thing. 
Bal.  As  I  did  sleep  under  this  yew-tree  here, 

I  dreamt  my  master  and  another  fought, 

And  that  my  master  slew  him. 
Fri.  L.  Romeo !     [Advances. 

Alack,  alack,  what  blood  is  this,  which  stains         140 

The  stony  entrance  of  this  sepulchre? 

What  mean  these  masterless  and  gory  swords 

To  lie  discolour'd  by  this  place  of  peace? 

[Enters  the  tomb. 

Romeo !   O,  pale !     Who  else  ?   what,  Paris  too  ? 

And  steep'd  in  blood?     Ah,  what  an  unkind  hour 

Is  guilty  of  this  lamentable  chance ! 

The  lady  stirs.  [Juliet  wakes, 

Jul.  O  comfortable  friar !  where  is  my  lord  ? 

I  do  remember  well  where  I  should  be,  149 

And  there  I  am :  where  is  my  Romeo  ? 

[Noise  within. 
Fri.  L.  I  hear  some  noise.     Lady,  come  from  that  nest 

Of  death,  contagion  and  unnatural  sleep: 

A^reater  powe£^thanj^_caii.XQ_ntlgdict 

Hath  thwarted  our  intents :    come,  come  away : 

Thy  husband  in  thy  bosom  there  lies  dead 

And  Paris  too :  come,  I  '11  dispose  of  thee 

Among  a  sisterhood  of  holy  nuns : 

Stay  not  to  question,  for  the  watch  is  coming  ; 

Come,  go,  good  Juliet ;  I  dare  no  longer  stay. 

Jul.  Go,  get  thee  hence,  for  I  will  not  away.  160 

[Exit  Fri.  L. 

133 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

What's  here?  a  cup,  closed  in  my  true  love's  hand? 

Poison,  I  see,  hath  been  his  timeless  end : 

O  churl !   drunk  all,  and  left  no  friendly  drop 

To  help  me  after?   I  will  kiss  thy  lips ; 

Haply  some  poison  yet  doth  hang  on  them, 

To  make  me  die  with  a  restorative.  [Kisses  him. 

Thy  lips  are  warm. 
First  Watch.   [Within]   Lead,  boy:   w^hich  way? 
Jul.  Yea,  noise  ?  then  I  '11  be  brief.     O  happy  dagger ! 

[Snatching  Romeo's  dagger. 

This  Is  thy  sheath  [Stabs  herself]  ;  there  rust,  and  let 
me  die.  [Falls  on  Romeo's  body,  and  dies. 

Enter  Watch,  zvith  the  Page  of  Paris. 

Page.  This   is  the  place;    there,   where  the  torch   doth 
burn.  171 

First  Watch.  The  ground  is  bloody ;    search  about  the 
churchyard : 
Go,  some  of  you,  whoe'er  you  find  attach. 
Pitiful  sight !   here  lies  the  county  slain ; 
And  Juliet  bleeding,  warm,  and  newly  dead, 
Who  here  hath  lain  this  two  days  buried. 
Go,  tell  the  prince :  run  to  ^he  Capulets : 
Raise  up  the  Montagues  :   some  others  search : 
We  see  the  ground  whereon  these  woes  do  lie  ; 
But  the  true  ground  of  all  these  piteous  woes        180 
We  cannnot  without  circumstance  descry. 

Re-enter  some  of  the  Watch,  zi'ith  Balthasar. 

Sec.  Watch.  Here  's  Romeo's  man ;   we  found  him  in  the 

churchyard. 
First  Watch.  Hold  him  in  safety,  till  the  prince  come  hither. 

134 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Re-enter  Friar  Laurence,  and  another  Watchman, 

Third  Watch.  Here  is  a  friar,  that  trembles,  sighs  and  weeps: 
We  took  this  mattock  and  this  spade  from  him, 
As  he  was  coming  from  this  churchyard's  side. 

First  Watch.  A  great  suspicion :   stay  the  friar  too. 

Enter  the  Prince  and  Attendants, 

Prince.  What  misadventure  is  so  early  up. 

That  calls  our  person  from  our  morning  rest? 

Enter  Capulet,  Lady  Capulet,  and  others. 

Cap.  What  should  it  be  that  they  so  shriek  abroad  ?     190 
La.  Cap.  The  people  in  the  street  cry  Romeo, 

Some  Juliet,  and  some  Paris,  and  all  run 

With  open  outcry  toward  our  monument. 
Prince.  What  fear  is  this  which  startles  in  our  ears? 
First  Watch.  Sovereign,  here  lies  the  County  Paris  slain ; 

And  Romeo  dead :  and  Juliet,  dead  before. 

Warm  and  new  kill'd. 
Prince.  Search,  seek,  and  know  how  this  foul  murder  comes. 
First  Watch.  Here  is  a  friar,  and  slaughter'd  Romeo's  man, 

With  instruments  upon  them  fit  to  open  200 

These  dead  men's  tombs. 
Cap.  O  heavens  !  O  wife,  look  how  our  daughter  bleeds ! 

This  dagger  hath  mista'en,  for,  lo,  his  house 

Is  empty  on  the  back  of  Montague, 

And  it  mis-sheathed  in  my  daughter's  bosom ! 
La.  Cap.  O  me !   this  sight  of  death  is  as  a  bell 

That  warns  my  old  age  to  a  sepulchre. 

Enter  Montague  and  others. 

Prince.  Come,  Montague ;   for  thou  art  early  up. 
To  see  thy  son  and  heir  more  early  down. 

135 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Mon.  Alas,  my  liege,  my  wife  is  dead  to-night ;  210 

Grief  of  my  son's  exile  hath  stopp'd  her  breath : 
What  further  woe  conspires  against  mine  age? 

Prince.  Look,  and  thou  shalt  see. 

Mon.  O  thou  untaught !   what  manners  is  in  this, 
To  press  before  thy  father  to  a  grave? 

Prince.  Seal  up  the  mouth  of  outrage  for  a  while. 
Till  we  can  clear  these  ambiguities. 
And  know  their  spring,  their  head,  their  true  descent ; 
And  then  will  I  be  general  of  your  woes. 
And  lead  you  even  to  death :  meantime  forbear, 
And  let  mischance  be  slave  to  patience.  221 

Bring  forth  the  parties  of  suspicion. 

Fri.  L.  I  am  the  greatest,  able  to  do  least, 

Yet  most  suspected,  as  the  time  and  place 
Doth  make  against  me,  of  this  direful  murder ; 
And  here  I  stand,  both  to  impeach  and  purge 
Myself  condemned  and  myself  excused. 

Prince.  Then  say  at  once  what  thou  dost  know  in  this. 

Fri.  L.  I  will  be  brief,  for  my  short  date  of  breath 

Is  not  so  long  as  is  a  tedious  tale.  230 

Romeo,  there  dead,  was  husband  to  that  Juliet ; 
And  she,  there  dead,  that  Romeo's  faithful  wife : 
I  married  them;   and  their  stol'n  marriage-day 
Was  Tybalt's  dooms-day,  whose  untimely  death 
Banish'd  the  new-made  bridegroom  from  this  city ; 
For  whom,  and  not  for  Tybalt,  Juliet  pined. 
You,  to  remove  that  siege  of  grief  from  her, 
Betroth'd  and  would  have  married  her  perforce 
To  County  Paris :   then  comes  she  to  me. 
And  with  wild  looks  bid  me  devise  some  means     240 
To  rid  her  from  this  second  marriage, 

136 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Or  in  my  cell  there  would  she  kill  herself. 

Then  gave  I  her,  so  tutor' d  by  my  art, 

A  sleeping  potion  ;  which  so  took  effect 

As  I  intended,  for  it  wrought  on  her 

The  form  of  death :  meantime  I  writ  to  Romeo, 

That  he  should  hither  come  as  this  dire  night, 

To  help  to  take  her  from  her  borrow'd  grave. 

Being  the  time  the  potion's  force  should  cease. 

But  he  which  bore  my  letter,  Friar  John,  250 

Was  stay'd  by  accident,  and  yesternight 

Return'd  my  letter  back.    Then  all  alone 

At  the  prefixed  hour  of  her  waking 

Came  I  to  take  her  from  her  kindred's  vault, 

Meaning  to  keep  her  closely  at  my  cell 

Till  I  conveniently  could  send  to  Romeo : 

But  when  I  came,  some  minute  ere  the  time 

Of  her  awaking,  here  untimely  lay 

The  noble  Paris  and  true  Romeo  dead. 

She  wakes,  and  I  entreated  her  come  forth,  260 

And  bear  this  work  of  heaven  with  patience : 

But  then  a  noise  did  scare  me  from  the  tomb, 

And  she  too  desperate  would  not  go  with  me, 

But,  as  it  seems,  did  violence  on  herself. 

All  this  I  know ;  and  to  the  marriage 

Her  nurse  is  privy :  and,  if  aught  in  this 

Miscarried  by  my  fault,  let  my  old  life 

Be  sacrificed  some  hour  before  his  time 

Unto  the  rigour  of  severest  law. 

Prince.  We  still  have  known  thee  for  a  holy  man.         270 
Where  's  Romeo's  man  ?  what  can  he  say  in  this  ? 

Bah  I  brought  my  master  news  of  JuUet's  death, 
And  then  in  post  he  came  from  Mantua 
137 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

To  this  same  place,  to  this  same  monument. 

This  letter  he  early  bid  me  give  his  father, 

And  threaten'd  me  with  death,  going  in  the  vault, 

If  I  departed  not  and  left  him  there. 
Prince.  Give  me  the  letter ;  I  will  look  on  it. 

Where  is  the  county's  page,  that  raised  the  watch  ? 

Sirrah,  what  made  your  master  in  this  place  ?         280 
Page.  He  came  with  flowers  to  strew  his  lady's  grave ; 

And  bid  me  stand  aloof,  and  so  I  did : 

Anon  comes  one  with  light  to  ope  the  tomb  ; 

And  by  and  by  my  master  drew  on  him ; 

And  then  I  ran  away  to  call  the  watch. 
Prince.  This  letter  doth  make  good  the  friar's  words, 

Their  course  of  love,  the  tidings  of  her  death : 

And  here  he  writes  that  he  did  buy  a  poison 

Of  a  poor  'pothecary,  and  therewithal 

Came  to  this  vault  to  die  and  lie  with  Juliet.  290 

Where  be  these  enemies  ?    Capulet !  Montague ! 

See,  what  a  scourge  is  laid  upon  your  hate, 

Tlmtjieayen, finds  means  to  kill  your  joys  with  love! 

And  I,  for  winking  at  your  discords  too. 

Have  lost  a  brace  of  kinsmen  :  all  are  punish'd. 
Cap.  O  brother  Montague,  give  me  thy  hand  : 

This  is  my  daughter's  jointure,  for  no  more 

Can  I  demand. 
Mon.  But  I  can  give  thee  more : 

For  I  will  raise  her  statue  in  pure  gold ; 

That  whiles  Verona  by  that  name  is  known,  3CX)  j 

There  shall  no  figure  at  such  rate  be  set  m 

As  that  of  true  and  faithful  Juliet. 
Cap.  As  rich  shall  Romeo's  by  his  lady's  lie ; 

Poor  sacrifices  of  our  enmity ! 

138 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Prince,  A  glooming  peace  this  morning  with  it  brings ; 

The  sun  for  sorrow  will  not  show  his  head : 

Go  hence,  to  have  more  talk  of  these  sad  things ; 

Some  shall  be  pardon'd  and  some  punished : 

For  never  was  a  story  of  more  woe 

Than  this  of  Juliet  and  her  Romeo.        [Exeunt.  310 


139 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Glossary, 


A,  one,  the  same;  11.  iv.  213. 
^l.A',  he;  I.  iii.  40. 

Abused,  disfigured;  IV.  i.  29. 
Adam  cupid    (v.  Note)  ;   II.  i. 

13. 
Advanced,  raised ;  V.  iii.  96. 
Adventure,  venture ;  II.  ii.  84. 
Advise,  consider,  think  over  it ; 

III.  V.  192. 
Afeard,  afraid ;  II.  ii.  139. 
Affecting,  affected;  II.  iv.  29. 
\.Affections,    inclinations;     I.    i. 

125. 
Affray,  frighten;  III.  v.  2>2)- 
Afore,  before ;  II.  iv.  166. 
Afore  me,  "by  my  life";   III. 

iv.  34. 
Against,  in  preparation  of;  III. 

iv.  2>2. 
V,  Agate-stone,  figures  cut  in  the 

agate-stone,    much    worn    in 

rings;  I.  iv.  55. 
All  along,  at  your  full  length ; 

V.  iii.  3. 
\All  so  soon,  as  soon   {all  used 

intensively)  ;  I.  i.  132. 
s^jAmbling,  moving  in  an  affected 

manner  (used  contemptuous- 
ly) ;  I.  iv.   II. 
jAmhuscadoes,   ambuscades ;     I. 

iv.  84. 
Amerce,  punish ;   III.  i.    192. 
.An,  if;  I.  i.  4. 
An  if,  if;  V.  i.  50. 
Ancient,  old,  aged ;  II.  iii.  74. 


lAntic  face,  quaint  mask ;  I.  v.  58. 

Apace,  quickly ;  II.  iv.  223. 

Ape,  a  term  of  endearment  or 
pity;  II.  i.  16. 

Appertaining  rage  to,  rage  be- 
longing to;  II.  i.  64. 

Apt  to,  ready  for ;  III.  i.  43. 

Apt  unto,  ready  for;  III.  iii. 
157- 

As,  as  if;  II.  v.  16. 

,  namely;   IV.  iii.  39. 

Ascend,  ascend  to ;  III.  iii.  147. 

Aspired,  mounted  to;  III.  i. 
119. 

Associate,  accompany ;  V.  ii.  6. 

As  that,  as  to  that  heart;  II. 
ii.  124. 

y^'hwart,  across,  over  [so 
Quarto  i ;  Quartos,  Folios, 
"ouer"];  I.  iv.  58. 

Atomies  =  atoms,  little  crea- 
tures as  tiny  as  atoms  [Quar- 
to I,  "Atomi";  Quarto  2, 
"  ottamie ""]  ;  I.  iv.  57. 

Attach,  arrest;  V.  iii.  173. 

Attending,  attentive;  II.  ii.  167. 

Baked  meats,  pastry;  IV.  iv.  5. 

Bandy,  beat  to  and  fro,  hurry; 
II.  v.  14. 

Bandying,  contending,  quarrel- 
ling; III.  i.  90. 

Banquet,  dessert;  I.  v.  24. 

Bare,  lean,  poor;  V.  i.  68. 

,  did  bare;  V.  ii.  13. 


140 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


Bating,  to  flap  or  flutter  the 
wings ;  a  term  in  falconry 
(Steevens'  emendation ; 
Quartos  2,  3,  Folios  i,  2,  3, 
"bayting")  ;  III.  ii.  14. 
l/^ear  a  brain,  have  a  good 
memory;  I.  iii.  29. 

Becomcd,  becoming;  IV.  ii.  26. 

Behovefiil,  befitting,  becoming; 
IV.  iii.  8. 

Bent,  inclination,  disposition.; 
II.  ii.  143. 

Bepaint,  paint ;  II.  ii.  86. 

Bescreen'd,  screened  ;  hidden  ; 
II.  ii.  52. 

Betossed,  deeply  agitated ;  V. 
iii.  76. 

Better  tempered,  of  better  qual- 
ity; III.  iii.  115. 
%  I  Bill,  "a  kind  of  pike  or  hal- 
berdt,  formerly  carried  by 
the  English  infantry,  and  af- 
terwards the  usual  weapon 
of  watchmen  "  ;  I.  i.  72. 
\fiite  my  thumb;  I.  i.  41.  {Cp. 
illustration.) 

Blaze,  make  known ;  III.  iii. 
151- 

Blazon,  trumpet  forth ;  II.  vi. 
26. 

Brace,  couple ;  V.  iii.  295. 

Brief,  briefly;  III.  iii.   174. 

Broad  goose ;  "  far  and  wide  a 
b.  g.,"  prob.  =  far  and  wide 
abroad,  a  goose  (some  lost 
allusion  perhaps  underlies 
the  quibble)  ;  II.  iv.  88. 
\jBroken,  cracked ;  I.  ii.  53. 

Brow,  face,  countenance  (Col- 
lier MS.  and  Singer  MS., 
"bow":  III.  V.  20, 


Burn  daylight,  "a  proverbial 
expression  used  when  can- 
dles are  lighted  in  the  day- 
time" (Steevens)  ;  hence,  su- 
perfluous actions  in  general ; 
here  "  waste  time  " ;  I.  iv.  43. 

Butt-shaft,  "  a  kind  of  arrow 
used  for  shooting  at  butts; 
formed  without  a  barb,  so 
as  to  be  easily  extracted" 
(Nares)  ;  II.  iv.  16. 

By  and  by,  directly;  II.  ii.  152. 


From  Jacques  Lagniet's  Reciieil  des 
plus  Illustris  Proverbes  {c-  1650). 

\^y    my    fay,    by    my    faith    (a 
slight  oath)  ;  I.  v.  127. 
By  my  troth,  by  my  truth,  on 

my  word;  II.  iv.  119. 
^y  the  rood,  by  the  cross    (a 
slight  oath)  ;  I.  iii.  36. 

Catiff,  wretched,  miserable ;  V. 

i.  52. 
Canker,    canker-worm ;    II.    iii. 

30. 


141 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Captain  of  compliments,  "  com- 
plete master  of  all  the  laws 
of  ceremony  "  ;  II.  iv.  20, 
]yCarry  coals,  endure  affronts 
(the  carriers  of  coal,  prob. 
charcoal,  were  the  lowest 
menials;  cp.  "blackguard," 
originally  the  attendants 
upon  the  royal  household's 
progress)  ;  I.  i.  i. 

Chapless,  without  jaws;  IV.  i. 

Charge,  weight ;  V.  ii.  18. 
'\jCheerly,  cheerily;  I.  v.  16. 

Cheveril,  the  skin  of  the  kid; 
II.  iv.  84. 
^Chinks,    a    popular    term    for 
money;  I.  v.  118. 

Chap-logic,  sophist;  III.  v.  150. 

Circumstance,  details;  II.  v.  36. 

Civil,  sober,  grave;  III.  ii.   10. 

Close,  closely,  very  near;   III. 
i.  40. 
Closed,  enclosed;  I.  iv.  no. 

Closely,  secretly;  V.  iii.  255. 

Closet,  chamber ;  IV.  ii,  33. 

Cockatrice  (called  also  basi- 
lisk) ;  the  fabulous  serpent, 
said  to  kill  by  a  look;  III.  ii. 

yCock-a-hoop;  "  set  c.-a-h.,"  i.e. 

/  pick  a  quarrel ;  I.  v.  82. 
^Cockerel,  young  cock ;  I.  iii.  53. 

Coil,  ado,  confusion ;  II.  v.  67. 

Coldly,  coolly,  calmly ;   III.  i.  53. 
.Come  near  ye,  hit  it;  I.  v.  21. 

Comfortable,  helpful,  full  of 
comfort;  V.  iii.   148. 

Commission,  warrant ;   IV.  i.  64. 

Concealed,  "  secretly  mar- 
ried "  ;  III.  iii.  98. 

Conceit,  imagination ;  II.  vi.  30. 


Concludes,  ends ;  III.  i.  187. 

Conduct,  conductor;  V.  iii.  116. 

Conduit,  referring  to  the  hu- 
man figures  on  wells  which 
spouted  water;  III.  v.  130. 

Confounds,  destroys ;  II.  vi.  13. 

Conjurations,  entreaties  (Quar- 
to 2,  ""  commiration  "  ;  Quarto 
3,  Folio  I,  "  commissera- 
tion  " ;  Capell,  "  conjura- 
tion, etc.")  ;  V.  iii.  68. 

Consort,  used  with  play  on  the 
two  meanings  of  the  word 
(i.)  a  company  of  musicians, 
(ii.)  associate,  keep  com- 
pany;   III.   i.   47. 

,   consort  with,  keep  com- 
pany with ;  III.  i.  132. 

Consorted,  associated;  II.  i.  31. 

Consort'st,  dost  keep  company ; 
III.  i.  46. 

pontent   thee,   keep   your   tem- 

'    per;  I.  v.  66. 

iContrary,    contradict,    oppose; 
I.  v.  86. 

Convoy,  conveyance ;  II.  iv. 
x96. 

Corse,  corpse ;  III.  ii.  128. 

Cot-quean,  a  man  who  busies 
himself  with  women's  busi- 
ness ;  IV.  iv.  6. 

Counterfeit;  "  gave  the  c," 
played  a  trick;  II.  iv.  48. 

C^ountervail,  balance;  II.  vi.  4. 

£ounty,  count;    I.   iii.    106. 

Court-cupboard,  side-board  for 
setting  out  plate ;  I.  v.  8. 

Courtship,  courtliness;  III.  iii. 

34- 
Cousin,   a    term    used   for    any 
kinsman  or  kinswoman ;  I.  v. 
31. 


142 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


I  G^ver,  book-cover;  used  with 
^  a  quibble  on  the  law  phrase 
for  a  married  woman,  who  is 
styled  a  femme  couverte 
(feme  covert)  in  law  French 
(Mason)  ;  I.  iii.  88. 

Cross,  perverse ;  IV.  iii.  5. 

,  thwart,  hinder ;  V.  iii.  20. 

Crotchets,  used  with  play  upon 
both  senses  of  the  word  (i.) 
whims,  fancies,  (ii.)  notes  in 
music;  IV.  v.  120. 

Crow,  crow-bar;  V.  ii.  21. 

Crow-^^^/j^r,  scarecrow ;  I.iv.6. 

Crush  a  cup  (cp.  modern 
phrase  crack  a  bottle)  ;  I.  ii. 
82. 

Cunning,  skill,  art;  II.  ii.  loi. 

Cures  with,  is  cured  by;  I.  ii. 
49. 

Curfezv-bell,  the  bell  ordinarily 
used  for  the  ringing  of  the 
curfew  at  night ;  IV.  iv,  4. 

Cynthia,  the  moon;   III.  v.  20. 

Damnation;    "ancient    d.,"    old 

sinner ;   III.  v.  235. 
Dared,   challenged ;    used   with 

play  upon  the  two  senses  of 

the  word;  II.  iv.  12. 
Dares,  ventures ;   II.  iv.   12. 
Date,  time,  duration ;  I.  iv.  108. 
Date  is  out,  time  has  long  gone 

by,  is  out  of  fashion ;  I.  iv.  3. 
Dateless,  without  date,  without 

limit;  V.  iii.   115. 
Dear,     true      (Quarto      i. 

"  meere  ")  ;   III.  iii.  28. 

,  important ;  V.  ii.  19. 

Death,  to  death;   III.  i.   136. 
Defence,     defensive     weapons ; 

III.  iii.  134. 


Demesnes,  landed  estates  (Fo- 
lio 4,  "demeans");  III.  v. 
182. 

Deny,  refuse ;  I.  v.  20. 

Depart,  go  away,  part;  III.  i. 
54. 

Defend,  impend;   III.   i.   121. 

Desperate,  reckless;  III.  iv.  12. 

Despite,  defiance ;  V.  iii.  48. 

Determine  of,  decide ;  III.  ii. 
51. 

Dew-dropping  south,  rainy 
south  (it  was  a  common  be- 
lief that  all  diseases  and  nox- 
ious vapours  came  from  the 
south)  ;   I.  iv.  103. 

Digressing,  deviating;  III.  iii. 
127. 

Discover,  reveal ;   III.  i.  144. 

Discovered,  betrayed;  II.  ii. 
106. 

Dislike,  displease;  II.  ii.  61. 

Disparagement,  injury,  harm; 
I.  v.  72. 

Displant,  transplant;  III.  iii. 
59- 

Dispute,  argue,  reason  (Folios 
I,  2,  "  dispaire" ;  Folios  3,  4, 
"despair")  ',   III.  iii.  63.      • 

Distemperature,  disease ;  II.  iii. 
40. 

Distcmper'd,    diseased ;    II.    iii. 

Distraught,  distracted;  IV.  iii. 
49. 

Division,  variation,  modula- 
tion ;  III.  V.  29. 

Doctrine,  instruction ;  I.  i.  236. 

Doff,  put  off;  II.  ii.  47. 

Doubt,  fear,  distrust ;  V.  iii.  44. 

Drave,  did  drive,  urged  (Quar- 
to 2,  "  driue")  ;  I.  i.  119. 


143 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Drift,  plan,  scheme;  IV.  i.  114. 

Dry-heat,  thrash;  III.  i.  80. 

Dump,  a  melancholy  strain  in 
music ;  IV.  v.  108. 

Dun's  the  mouse,  keep  still  (a 
proverbial  expression  not  yet 
explained)  ;    v.    Note ;    I.    iv. 

Elf-locks,  hair  supposed  to  be 
matted  together  by  the  elves 
(Quartos  2,  3,  Folio  i,  "  Elk- 
locks")  ;  I.  iv.  90. 

Empty,  hungry ;  V.  iii.  39. 

Encounter,  meeting ;  11.  vi.  29. 

Endart,  dart  [Quarto  i,  "en- 
gage " ;  Pope,  "  ingage  "]  ;  I. 
iii.  98. 

Enforce,  force ;  V.  iii.  47. 

Enpierced,  pierced  through ;  I. 
iv.  19. 

Entrance  (trisyllabic)  ;  I.  iv.  8. 

Envious,  malignant ;  III.  ii.  40. 

Ethiop,  a  native  of  Ethiopia ;  I. 
v.  48. 

Evening  mass,  the  practice  of 
saying  mass  in  the  afternoon 
lingered  on  for  some  time ; 
IV.  i.  38. 

Ex^pire,  end;  I.  iv.  109. 

Extremes,  extremities,  suffer- 
ings; IV.  i.  62. 

Extremity ;  "  everything  in  e.," 
i.e.  at  a  desperate  pass ;  I.  iii. 
103. 

Fain,  gladly;  II.  ii.  88. 

Fair,  fair  one,  beautiful  wo- 
man ;  Prol,  II.  3. 

Fantastic  oes,  coxcombs  [Ca- 
pell's  reading  (from  Quarto 
i)  ;  Quartos  2,  3,  4,  Folios  i, 
2,   "  phantacies" ',    Quarto   5, 


FoHos  3,  4,  "phantasies" ', 
Collier  MS.,  "  phantas- 
tickes '']  ;  II.  iv.  29. 

Farewell  compliment,  away 
with  ceremony ;  II.  ii.  89. 

Fearful,  full  of  fear ;  III.  iii.  i. 

Feeling,  heartfelt ;  III.  v.  75. 

Fee-simple,  hereditary  and  un- 
conditional property ;  III.  i. 
34. 

Festering,  rotting;  IV.  iii.  43. 

Fettle,  prepare;  III.  v.  154, 

Fine,  penalty  (Warburton's 
emendation  of  Quartos,  Fo- 
lios, " sinne"  and  "sin")  ;  I. 
v.  96. 

First  house,  "  first  rank  among 
duellists,"  or,  "  of  the  best 
school  of  fencing  "  ;  II.  iv.  25. 

Fits;  "  it  fits,"  it  is  becoming ; 
I.  V.  76. 

Flecked,  spotted  [Steevens' 
reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ; 
Quartos,    "  fleckeld  "  ;     Folio 

I,  "  Heckled  ";  Pope,  "  tieck- 
e/d";   Capell,   "  tlecke/d"]  ; 

II.  iii.  3. 

Fleer,  sneer ;  I.  v.  59. 

Flirt-gills,  flirting  women  (Gill 
was  a  familiar  name  for  a 
woman)  ;   II.   iv.   157. 

Flowered,  alluding  probably  to 
the  shoes  pinked  or  punched 
with  holes;  II.  iv.  63. 

Fond,  foolish ;   III.  iii.  52. 

Foolish,  trifling;  I.  v.  123. 

Forbear,  abstain  from ;  III.  i.  88. 

Form,  used  with  play  upon 
both  senses  of  the  word;  II. 
iv.  36. 

Forsworn;  "be  f.,"  commit  per- 
jury; III.  v.  197. 


I 


144 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


Forth,  from  out  of;  I.  i.  ii8. 
Fortune's  fool,  the  sport  of  for- 
tune;  III.  i.   138. 
Frank,  liberal;  II.  ii.  131. 
Free-town,    Villafranca ;    I.    i. 

lOI. 

Friend,  lover;  III.  v.  43. 
Frighted,  frightened,   terrified; 

I.  iv.  87. 
From,   away    from,    to    avoid ; 

III.  i.  32. 

Furnish,  deck;  IV.  ii.  35. 

Gear,  matter ;  II.  iv.  103. 

Ghostly,  spiritual ;  II.  ii.  189. 

Give  leave,  leave  us ;  a  cour- 
teous form  of  dismissal ;  I. 
iii.  7. 

Give  you,  i.e.  retort  by  calling 
you;  IV.  V.  117. 

Gleek,  scoff  {"give  the  g.,"  to 
pass  a  jest  upon  a  person)  ; 

IV.  V.  IIS. 

Glooming,  gloomy;  V.  iii.  305. 

God-den,  good  evening  ;   I.  ii.  57. 

God  gi'  god-den,  God  give  you 
a  good  evening  (Quartos, 
Folios  I,  2,  3,  "  Godgigo- 
den  " ;  Capell,  "  God  gi'  go' 
den"',  Collier,  "God  gi'  good 
den " ;  Staunton,  "  God  ye 
good  den")  ;  I.  ii.  58. 

God  save  the  mark,  "  originally 
a  phrase  used  to  avert  the 
evil  omen  =:  saving  your  rev- 
erence, under  your  pardon ; 
here  *  God  have  mercy  '  " ; 
III.  ii.  53. 

God  ye  good  den,  God  give  you 
good  evening;  II.  iv.  112. 

God  ye  good  morrow,  God  give 
you  good  morning ;  II.  iv.  iii. 


Good  goose,  bite  not,  a  pro- 
verbial expression  (found  in 
Ray's  "Proverbs")  ;  II,  iv. 
80. 

Goodman  boy,  a  familiar  appel- 
lation ;  I,  V.  78. 

Good  pilgrim,  I.  v.  97.  (C/>. 
illustration.) 


From  a  sketch  by  Iniffo  Tones  of  the 
Palmer's  dress  worn  by  Romeo  in  the 
Masquerade  Scene. 

Gore;   "  gore   blood  "  =  clotted 

blood;  III.  ii.  56. 
Grace,  virtue,  potency;   II.   iii. 

15. 
Green   earthen  pots;   V.   i.   46. 


145 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


(Cp.    the    annexed    represen- 
tation  of   an   earthen   money 
pot  of  Shakespeare's  time.) 
Grievance,  grief,  sorrow ;  I.  i.  1 55- 
Gyves,  fetters;  II.  ii.  i8o. 

Hai,  a  home-thrust  in  fencing; 

II.  iv.  27. 
Hall;    "  a   hall,    a   hall,"    make 

room ;  I.  v.  27. 
Hap;  "dear  h.,"  good  fortune; 

II.  ii.  190. 
Harlotry,  a  term   of   contempt 

for  a  silly  wench ;  IV.  ii.  14. 
Have  at  thee,  be  warned,  take 

care;  1.  i.  71. 
Havioiir,  behaviour;   II.   ii.  99. 
He,  man;  V.  i.  67. 
Healthsome,    wholesome ;     IV. 

iii.  34. 
Heartless,  spiritless,  cowardly ; 

I.  i.  65. 
'  Heart's  ease,'  a  popular  tune 

of    the    time;     IV.    v.     loi. 

(Cp.  music  below.) 


High-lone,  alone,  without  help 
(Quarto  2,  "  hylone";  Quar- 
to 3,  "a  lone";  other  edi- 
tions, "alone")  ;  I.  iii.  36. 

Highmost,  highest ;  II.  v.  9. 

Hilding,  base  wretch  ;  III.  v.  169. 

Hinds,  serfs,  menials;  I.  i.  65. 

His,  its ;  II.  vi.  12 ;  V.  iii.  203. 

Hoar,  hoary,  mouldy;  II.  iv.  135. 

Holidame,  halidom,  salvation 
(used  in  swearing)  ;  I.  iii.  43. 

Holp,  helped;  I.  ii.  48. 

Homely,  plain,   simple;    II.   iii. 

55. 

Honey  nurse,  a.  term  of  endear- 
ment; II.  V.  18. 

Hood,  cover  with  a  hood  (as 
the  hawk  was  hooded  till  let 
fly  at  the  game)  ;  III.  ii.  14. 

Humorous,  moist,  capricious 
(used  quibblingly)  ;  II.  i.  31. 

Humour,  inclination,  bent 
(Quartos  4,  5,  "humour"; 
Quarto  2,  ''  humor  "  ;  the  rest 
read  "honor")  ;  I.  i.  128. 


'  Heaj'fs  ease? 
From  Naylor's  Shakespeare  and  Music. 


Heaviness,  sorrow;  III.  iv.  11. 
Heavy,  sad,  troubled;  I.  i.  135- 
Hie  you,  hasten ;  II.  v.  70. 


Hunts-up,  "the  tune  played  to 
wake  and  collect  the  hunt- 
ers" ;  III.  V.  34. 


146 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


I'll  be  a  candle-holder,  I'll  be 
an  idle  spectator  (a  prover- 
bial phrase)  ;  I.  iv.  38. 

Ill-divining,  misgiving;   III.  v. 

54. 
Impeach,  accuse ;  V.  iii.  226. 
In,  into ;  V.  i.  8. 
Inconstant,    capricious,    fickle ; 

IV.  i.  119. 

Inherit,  possess ;  I.  ii.  30. 

Indite,  (?)  insist  on  inviting 
(Quarto  i,  Folios  3,  4,  "in- 
vite'') ;  II.  iv.  131. 

In  happy  time,  a  propos,  pray 
tell  me;  III.  v.  112. 

It,  Its;   I.  iii.  52. 

Jack,  a.  term  of  contempt  for  a 

silly  fellow;  III.  i.  12. 
Jaunce,  jaunt;  II.  v.  26. 
Jealous,  in  any  way  suspicious; 

V.  iii.  33. 
Jealous-hood,  jealousy;  IV.  iv. 

13- 

Joint-stools,  folding  chairs ;    I. 

V.  7. 
Joy,  rejoice;  II.  ii.  116. 

Keep,  make;  III.  iv.  23. 
Kindly,  exactly,  aptly ;  II.  iv.  58. 

Label;  a  seal  appended  to  a 
deed;  IV.  i.  57.  {Cp.  the  ac- 
companying facsimile  of  a 
XVth  century  deed  preserved 
at    Stratford.) 

*  Lady,  lady,  lady,'  a  phrase 
quoted  from  the  old  ballad  of 
Susanna ;  II.  iv.  147. 

Lammas-eve,  the  day  before 
Lammas-tide,  i.e.  July  31st;  I. 
iii.  17. 


Lammas-tide,  the  ist  of  Au- 
gust; I.  iii.  15. 

Lantern,  a  turret  full  of  win- 
dows ;  V.  iii.  84. 

Late,  lately;  III.  i.  128. 

Lay,  wager,  stake ;  I.  iii.  12. 

Learn,  teach ;   III.  ii.   12. 

Learn  d  me,  taught  myself ;  IV. 
ii.  17. 

Let,  hinderance ;  II.  ii.  69. 

Level,  aim ;  III.  iii.  103. 

Lieve,  lief,  gladly ;   II.  iv.  208. 

Like,  likely;  IV.  iii.  2>^. 

Like  of,  like;  I.  iii.  96. 

List,  choose ;  I.  i.  40. 

Logger-head,  blockhead;  IV. 
iv.  20. 

Long;  "  1.  to  speak,"  long  in 
speaking,  slow  to  speak;  IV. 
i.  66. 


'  ihc  label  to  another  deed.'' 

Long      spinners'      legs,      long- 
legged  spiders ;  I.  iv.  59. 


147 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Love,  i.e.  Venus;  II.  v.  7. 

Mah,  the  queen  of  the  fairies; 
I.  iv.  53. 

Made,  was  doing ;  V.  iii.  280, 

Mammet,  puppet;  III.  v.  186. 

Manage,  course ;  III.  i.  145. 

Manage,  handle,  use ;  I.  i.  68. 

Mandrake,  a  plant,  the  root  of 
which  was  supposed  to  re- 
semble the  human  figure,  and 
when  torn  from  the  earth  to 
cause  madness  and  even 
death ;  IV.  iii.  47. 


The  above  illustration  (from  an  illu- 
minated MS.  in  the  British  Museumj 
shows  the  method  by  which  the  man- 
drake was  supposed  to  be  obtamed. 

Marchpane,  a  kind  of  almond 
paste ;  I.  v.  9. 

Margcnt,  margin;  I.  iii.  86. 

Mark,  elect;  I.  iii.  59. 

Mark-man,  marksman;  I.  i. 
204. 

Marriage  (trisyllabic)  ;  IV.  i. 
II. 

Married,  harmonious  (the  read- 
ing of  Quarto  2 ;  other  edi- 
tions, "  seuerair  )  ;  I.  iii.  83. 

Maskers;  I.  iv.  Direc.  (Cp. 
illustration.) 

Mean,  means,  instrument ;  III. 
iii.  45. 


Measure,  a  stately  dance;  I.  iv. 
10. 

Medicine,  medicinal;  II.  iii,  24. 

Merchant,  used  contemptuous- 
ly; II.  iv.  148. 

Mew'd  up,  shut  up;  III.  iv.  11. 

Mickle,  great;  II.  iii.  15. 

Minion,  saucy  person ;  origi- 
nally =  a  spoilt  darling,  a  fa- 
vourite ;  III.  V.  152. 

Minstrel;  "give  you  the  m.," 
i.e.  call  you  a  minstrel,  glee- 
man  (with  a  play  upon  "to 
give  the  gleek")  ;  IV.  v.  116. 

Minute,  minutes ;  V.  iii.  257. 

Misadventure,  misfortune;  V. 
i.  29. 

Mistemper'd,  compounded  and 
hardened  to  an  ill  end ;  I.  i. 
86. 

Modern,  commonplace,  trite ; 
III.  ii.  120. 


[From  a  representation  of  a  French 
Court-masque  (/<fw/.  Char  lea  VI.). 


14S 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


Moody,  peevish,  angry ;   III.  i. 

14. 
Morrow,  morning ;  II.  ii.  186. 
Mouse-hunt,  a  woman  hunter; 

IV.  iv.  II. 
Moved,  exasperated ;  I.  i.  7. 
Much  upon  these  years,  about 

the  same  age ;  I.  iii.  72. 
MuMe,  hide;  V.  iii.  21. 
*  My  heart  is  full  of  woe,'  a  line 

of   a   popular    ballad   of   the 

time;  IV.  v.  104. 

Natural,  idiot ;  II.  iv.  96. 

Naught,  bad;  III.  li.  87. 

Needly  will,  of  necessity  must ; 
III.  ii.  117. 

Needy,  joyless  (Quarto  i, 
"needful")  ;  III.  v.  106. 

Neighbour-stained,  stained  with 
the  blood  of  countrymen 
["  neighbour-stained  steel," 
instead  of  "neighbour-stained 
soil"  (Daniel)];  I.  i.  81. 

New,  just;  I.  i.  159. 

,  fresh,  anew ;  I.  i.  103. 

Nice,  trifling;   III.  i.  156. 

None ;  "  she  will  n.,"  i.e.  she 
will  none  of  it,  she  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it ;  III.  v. 
140. 

Note,  notice ;  I.  v.  72. 

Noted,  noticed,  observed ;  V.  i. 
38. 

Nothing,  not  at  all;  I.  i.  in. 

O,  grief,  lamentation  ;  III.  iii. 90. 
O',  on  [Quartos,  Folio  i,  "a"; 

Folios  2,  3,  4,  "of";  (Quarto 

i),"on"]',  III.  i.  92. 
Odds;  "  at  o.,"  at  variance ;  I. 

ii.  5. 


O'er-perch,  leap  over,  fly  over ; 

II.  ii.  66. 

Old,      accustomed,      practised; 

III.  iii.  94. 

On,  of;  I.  iv.  72,  yT„  74. 
Once,  only;  I.  iii.  61. 
Operation,  effect ;  III.  i.  8. 
Orchard,  garden ;  II.  i.  5. 
Osier  cage,  basket  made  of  the 

water  willow ;  II.  iii.  7. 
Outrage,  outcry;  V.  iii.  216. 
Overwhelming,     over-hanging ; 

V.  i.  39. 
Owes,  owns ;   II.  ii.  46. 

Paly,  pale ;  IV.  i.  100. 

Part,  side;  I.  i,  113. 

Partisan,  a  kind  of  halbert,  or 
pike ;  I.  i.  72. 

Parts,  natural  gifts,  endow- 
ments ;  III.  iii.  2. 

Passado,  a  thrust  in  fencing; 
II.  iv.  26 ;  III.  i.  84. 

,    a    motion    forwards    and 

thrust  in  fencing;   II.  iv.  27. 

Passing,  surpassingly ;  I.  i.  232. 

Past  compare,  past  comparison  ; 
II.   V.   43. 

Pastry,  the  room  in  which  pies 
were  made ;   IV.  iv.  2. 

Pay,  give ;  I.  i.  236. 

Peevish,  silly,  childish ;  IV.  ii. 
14. 

Perforce,  compulsory;  I.  v.  90. 

Perdona-mi's,  people  who  are 
continually  saying  pardon  me 
[Quartos  4,  5,  "  pardona- 
mees";  Quarto  i,  "  pardon- 
mees  "  ;  Quarto  2,  "  pardons 
mees";  Theobald,  "  pardon- 
nez  7noy's"]  ;   II.  iv.  35. 

Peruse,  examine;  V.  iii.  74. 


149 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


Phaethon,  the  son  of  Helios, 
the  Sun  god,  who  ambitious- 
ly tried  to  drive  the  chariot 
of  his  father;  III.  ii.  3. 

Pilcher,  scabbard  (used  con- 
temptuously) ;  III.  i.  82. 

Pin,  the  centre  of  the  butt  in 
archery;  II.  iv.  15. 

Plantain-leaf  (supposed  to  be 
efficacious  in  healing 
wounds)  ;  I.  ii.  52. 

Plats,  plaits,  braids ;  1.  iv.  89. 

Plucks,  pulls;   II.  ii.   181. 

Poor  John,  a  coarse  kind  of 
fish,  salted  and  dried;  called 
also  hake ;  1.  i.  31. 

Poperin  pear,  a  kind  of  pear ; 

II.  i.  38. 

Portly,  well-bred;   I.   v.  67. 

Post;  "  in  p.,"  in  haste,  post- 
haste;  V.  iii.  273. 

Presence,  presence  -  chamber, 
state  room;  V.  iii.  86. 

Present,  immediate,  instant ; 
IV.  i.  61. 

Pretty  fool,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment;  I.  iii.  31. 

Prevails,  avails ;  III,  iii.  60. 

Prick,  point;  II.  iv.  119. 

Prick-song,  music  sung  from 
notes  ;  II.  iv.  21. 

Prince  of  cats  (used  with  ref- 
erence to  Tybalt,  the  name 
of  the  cat  in  Reynard  the 
Fox)  ;   II.  iv.   19. 

Princox,  pert  boy,  saucy  boy ; 
I.  V.  87. 

Procures,  causes  her  to  come ; 

III.  V.  68. 

Prodigious,    monstrous ;    I.    v. 

141- 
Proof,  experience ;  I.  i.  176. 


Pro/'^r^r^  handsomer ;  II.iv.210. 
Prorogue,  delay ;  IV.  i.  48. 
Prorogued,    put    off,    delayed; 

II.  ii.  78. 
Pump,  low  shoe ;  II.  iv.  62. 
Punto   reverso,   a  back-handed 

stroke  in  fencing;  II.  iv.  27. 
Purge,    clear    from    suspicion; 

V.  iii.  226. 
Purged,    cleared    from    smoke 

(Johnson     conj.,     ''urg'd"\ 

Collier  MS.,  "  puff'd");  I.  i. 

189. 

Quit,  reward ;  II.  iv.  197. 
Quote,  take  note  of  [Quarto  i, 

"  coate  " ;  Quarto  2,  "  cote  "\  ; 

I.  iv.  31. 

Rapier,  a  small  sword  used  in 

thrusting;  I.  v.  56. 
Reason,  speak,  talk;  III.  i.  53. 
Reckoning,  estimation ;  I.  ii.  4. 
Reeky,  squalid,  foul ;  IV.  i.  83. 
Remedies;   "  both   our   r.,"   the 

healing    of   both    of    us;    II. 

iii.  51. 
Respective,    regardful ;     III.    i. 

125. 
Rest  you  merry,  i.e.   God   rest 

you    merry,    God    keep    you 

merry;  a  form  of  salutation 

mostly  used  at  parting;  I.  ii. 

64. 
Retorts,    throws    back;    III.    i. 

166. 
Ropery,  roguery,  tricks   [Folio 

4,  "Roguery" ',    (Quarto   i), 

''  rope-ripe  "]  ;  II.  iv.  149. 
Rosemary,     a     herb     used     at 

bridals   and   burials:    IV.   v. 


79. 


ISO 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


Rote;  "  did  read  by  rote  and 
could  not  spell,"  "  consisted 
of  phrases  learned  by  heart, 
but  knew  nothing  of  the  true 
characters  of  Love" 
(Schmidt)  ;  II.  iii.  88. 
Runagate,  vagabond;  III.  v.  90, 
Runaway's    {v.   Note)  ;   III.  ii. 

Rush'd;  "  r.  aside  the  law," 
with  partial  eagerness  eluded 
the  law  (Capell  conj.  and 
Long  MS.,  "  piish'd" ;  Collier 
MS.,  "brushd");  III.  iii.  26. 

Rushes,  the  covering  of  the 
floors ;  L  iv.  36. 

Sack,  destroy;  III.  iii.  107. 
Sadly,  seriously ;  I.  i.  199. 
Sadness,  seriousness ;  I.  i.  197, 

200. 
Scant,  scarcely;  I.  ii.  104. 
Scathe,  harm ;  I.  v.  85. 
Set  abroach,  incited,  caused ;  I. 

i.  103. 
Set  up   my  rest,  make   up  my 

mind,      remain ;      a      phrase 

taken    from   gaming;    V.    iii. 

no. 
Shield;  "God  s.,"  God  forbid; 

IV.  i.  41. 
Shift,  change ;  I.  v.  2. 
Shrift,    confession    and    conse- 
quent absolution;   IV.   ii.   15. 
Shrived,  given   absolution ;    II. 

iv.  184. 
Simpleness,    folly     (Quarto    i, 

"wilfulness")  ;  III.  iii.  77. 
Simples,  medicinal  herbs ;  V.  i. 

40. 
Single-soled,   contemptible ;    II. 

iv.  69. 


Sirrah,  a  term  of  address  to  an 
inferior ;  IV.  li.  2. 

Sir-reverence,  a  contraction  of 
save  reverence  (salvd  rever- 
entid)  ;  used  apologetically, 
when  referring  to  something 
improper ;  I.  iv.  42. 

Skains-mates  (?)  scapegraces 
{v.  Note)  ;  II.  iv.  156. 

Slip,  used  with  a  play  upon 
slip  =  a  counterfeit  coin  ;  II. 
iv.  51- 

Slop,  large  loose  breeches ;  II. 
iv.  47. 

Sober-suited,  quietly  clad;  III. 
ii.   II. 

So  ho!  a  sporting  term;  II.  iv. 
136. 

Solemnity,  celebration  of  nup- 
tials; IV.  V.  61. 

Some  other  where  =  some- 
where else,  elsewhere ;  I.  i. 
196. 

Sometime,  sometimes ;  I.  iv.  79. 

Soon-speeding,  quickly  acting, 
quickly  despatching;  V.  i. 
60. 

Sort,  choose,  select ;  IV.  ii.  34. 

Sorted  out,  found  out,  discov- 
ered; III.  V.  no. 

Spanish  blades,  Spanish 
swords ;  Toledo,  in  Spain, 
was  famous  for  the  temper 
of  its  swords ;  I.  iv.  84. 

Sped,  despatched,  undone;  III. 
i.  92, 

Spite,  vexation;  II.  i.  27. 

;  "in  s.  of  me,"  in  de- 
fiance, to  my  mortification ;  I. 
i.  78. 

Spleen,  heat,  impetuosity;  III. 
i.  159. 


151 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


spoke  him  fair,  spoke  to  him 
with  gentle  words ;  III.  i.  155, 

Starvcth,  "  looks  out  hun- 
grily " ;  V.  i.  70. 

State ;  "  here  stands  all  your 
s.,"  the  whole  of  your  fortune 
depends  on  this ;  III.  iii.  166. 

Stay,  detain;  V.  iii.  187. 

,  linger ;  III.  iii.  148. 

,  wait  for ;  II.  v.  36. 

Stay'd,  delayed;  V.  iii.  251. 

Steads,  helps ;  II.  iii.  54. 

Still,  always ;  I.  i.  169. 

Stint,  cease;  I.  iii.  58. 

Stoccata,  a  thrust  in  fencing 
{"Alia  stoccata,"  Knight's 
emendation  of  Quartos,  Fo- 
lio I,  "Alia  stucatho";  Folios 

2,  3,  4,  "Allastucatho" ;  Theo- 
bald, Capell,  "  a  la  stoc- 
cata") ;  III.  i.  75. 

Straight,  straightway  ;  I.  iii.  104. 
Strain  d,  forced ;   II.  iii.   19. 
Strains,    constrains,     wrenches 

(Folio  I,  "  streamcs")  ;   IV. 

i.  47. 
Strange,  reserved,   distant ;    II. 

ii.  loi,  102. 
,   retiring,   unfamiliar ;   III. 

ii.  15- 
Stratagems,     amazing     deeds ; 

III.  V.  211. 
Strucken,  struck ;  I.  i.  230. 
Substantial       (quadrisyllable)  ; 

II.  ii.  141. 
Surcease,  cease  to  beat ;  IV.  i. 

97. 
Swashing,  dashing  (Quartos  2. 

3,  Folios,  "washing")  ;  I.  i. 
62. 

Sweeting,  a  kind  of  sweet  ap- 
ple;  II.  iv.  83. 


Sweet  water,  perfumed  wa- 
ters ;  V.  iii.  14. 

Swounded,  swooned ;  III.  ii. 
56. 

Tackled  stair,  rope  ladder ;  II. 
iv.  194. 

Take  me  with  you,  let  me  un- 
derstand aright ;  III.  v.  142. 

Take  the  wall,  get  the  better  of 
(used  quibblingly)  ;  I.  i.  11. 
■  Tassel-gentle,  male  hawk;  II. 
ii.  160.    (C/J.  illustration.) 


From  Geome  Turberville's  Book  of 

Falco}irye,  1575. 

Teen,   sorrow    (Folios  2,   3,   4, 

"  teeth  ")  ;   I.   iii.   13. 
Temper,  mix ;  III.  v.  98. 
Tender,  bid,  offer ;  III.  iv.  12. 

,  hold,  regard;  III.  i.  72. 

Tetchy,  fretful,  peevish;   I.  iii. 

32. 
Thee,  thyself;  V.  iii.  3. 
Therewithal,  with  it ;  V.  iii.  289. 


152 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Glossary 


Thorough,  through;  11.  iv.  15. 

Thought,  hoped;  IV.  v.  41. 

Thou's,  thou  shalt;  I.  iii.  9- 

Timeless,  untimely ;  V.  iii.  162. 

Titan,  the  sun-god;  II.  iii.  4- 

To,  as  to;  II.  iii.  92. 

To-night,  last  night;  I.  iv.  50; 
II.  iv.  2. 

Torch-hearers;  I.  iv.  Direc. 
{Cp.  the  subjoined  illustra- 
tion.) 


From  'La  trjoimphante  .  .  •  entree 
f  aicte  sur  le  .  .  .  advenement  de  .  •  • 
prince  Charles  des  Hespaignes  [i.e. 
Emperor  Charles  V. )  ...  en  sa  ville 
de  Bruges'  (1515)- 

Towards,  at  hand ;  I.  v.  123. 

Toy,  folly,  idle  fancy;  IV.  i. 
119. 

Trencher,  plate;  I.  v.  2. 

Tried,  proved;   IV.  iii.  29. 

Truckle-bed,  a  bed  running  on 
wheels,  to  be  pushed  under 
another,  called  a  standing- 
bed;  II.  i.  39- 

Turn  thee,  turn  thyself  round, 
turn ;  I.  i.  66. 

Tutor,  teach;  III.  i.  32. 


Unattainted,  sound,  impartial; 
I.  ii.  87. 

Unbruised,  unhurt ;  II.  iii.  37- 

Uncomfortable,  cheerless,  joy- 
less ;  IV.  V.  60. 

Unfurnish'd,  unprovided;  IV. 
ii.   10. 

Unmann'd,  untrained  (a  term 
of  falconry)  ;  III.  ii.  I4- 

Unstuif'd,  not  overcharged;  II. 
iii.  37- 

Utters  them,  causes  them  to 
pass  from  one  to  another ;  V. 
i.  67. 

Validity,  value ;  III.  iii.  33- 

Vanish' d,  issued;  III.  iii.  10. 

Vanity,  trivial  pursuit,  vain  de- 
light;   II.   vi.   20. 

Verona  streets,  the  streets  of 
Verona;   III.  i.  90- 

Versal,  universal ;  II.  iv.  212. 

View,  outward  appearance;  I. 
i.  167. 

,  sight;  I.  i.  169. 

Visor,  mask;  I.  v.  24. 

Ware,  aware;  I.  i.  123. 

Wax;  "  a  man  of  w.,"  as  pretty 


Standing'  and  truckle-bed. 

From  an  illuminated  MS.  of  XV.  cent. 

(The  figures  represent  a  nobleman 

and  his  valet.) 


^S3 


Glossary 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


as  if  he  had  been  modelled 

in  wax;  I.  iii.  76. 
Waxes,  grows;  I.  v.  127. 
Weeds,  garments;  V.  i.  39. 
Well  said,  well  done ;  L  v.  87. 
What,  who;  I.  v.  113. 
,  "  what  dares,"  how  dare ; 

L  V.  56. 
Who,   which;    L    i.    iii;    1.    v. 

100. 

,  he  who ;  I.  i.  129. 

Wit,  wisdom;  I.  iv.  49. 

,  "  sentiments  " ;  I.  i.  207. 

With,  by;  I.  iv.  57. 


,  through ;  V.  iii,  50. 

Withal,  with,  by  it;  I.  i.  iii. 
Without,    outside    of;    III.    iii. 

17. 
Wot,  know;  III.  ii.  139. 
Writ,  written ;  I.  iii.  82. 
Wrought,  brought   about;    III. 

V.  145- 

Yet  not,  not  yet ;  II.  ii.  58. 

Yond,  yonder;   I.  v.  129. 

'Zounds,  a  contraction  of 
"  God's  wounds " ;  an  oath 
(Folios  "Come");  III.  i.  51, 


Dragging-  07i  a  hurdle  {See  III.  v.  166.) 
From  a  XV th  century  MS. 


154 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Critical  Notes. 

BY   ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ, 


Prologue  omitted  in  Folios. 

I.  i,  22.  '  cruel ' ;  so  Quartos  4,  5 ;  Quartos  2,  3,  Folios  read 
'  ciuil'  and  '  civil! 

I.  i.  100.  ' farther';  so  Quartos  2,  4;  Quarto  5,  'further'; 
Quarto  3,  Folios  i,  2,  3,  'Fathers' ;  Folio  4,  'Father's.' 

I.  i.  119.  '  drave  me  to  walk  abroad';  Pope  (from  Quarto  i), 
"drew  me  from  company' ;  Theobald,  '  drew  me  to  zvalk  abroad.' 

I.  i.  126.  'Which  then  most  sought  where  most  might  not  be 
found';  Pope  (from  Quarto  i),  'That  most  are  busied,  when 
they're  most  alone';  Keightley,  'Which  there  .  .  .  ,'  etc.; 
Herr  conj.  'Which  then  most  sought  where  many  .  .  .' ;  Allen 
conj.  'which  then  most  sought  where  more     .     .     .' 

I.  i.  151.  'sun';  Theobald's  emendation  of  Quartos  and  Folios, 
'  same.' 

I.  i.  170.  'see  pathways  to  his  will';  Staunton  conj.  'set  path- 
ways to  our  will ' ;  Hanmer,  '     .     .     .     ill.' 

I.  i.  183.  'Why  such  is';  Seymour  conj.  'Why  such  is,  merely'; 
Collier  MS.,  'Why  such,  Benvolio,  is';  Mommsen  conj.  'Why, 
such,  Benvolio,  such  is';  Keightley,  'Why,  gentle  cousin,  such 
is';  Orger  conj.  'Why,  such  a  love  is.' 

I.  i.  188.  'raised';  Pope's  correction  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quar- 
tos, Folios,  '  made.' 

I.  i.  200.  'Bid  a  sick  man  in  sadness  make';  so  (Quarto  i), 
Quartos  4,  5 ;  Quartos  2,  3,  Folio  i  read  'A  sicke  man  in  sadnesse 
makes';  Folios  2,  3,  4,  'A  sicke  man  in  good  sadnesse  makes.' 

I.  i.  209.  'From  love's  weak  childish  bow  she  lives  unharm'd' ; 
Grant  White  conj.  """Gam.?^  .  .  .  ^Hc/iari/i'c/ "";  Quartos,  Folios, 
'  vncharmd ' ;  Collier  MS.,  '  encharm'd.' 

I.  i.  214.  '  with  beauty  dies  her  store ' ;  Theobald  reads  '  with 
her  dies  Beauty's  Store';  Keightley,  'with  her  dies  beauty  store.' 

I.  ii.  15.  'She  is  the  hopeful  lady  of  my  earth';  Johnson  conj. 
'  She  is  the  hope  and  stay  of  my  full  years.' 

155 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

I.  ii.  25.  'make  dark  heaven  light';  Theobald  reads  'make 
dark  heaven's  light';  Warburton,  'make  dark  even  light';  Jack- 
son conj.  'mask  dark  heaven's  light';  Daniel  conj.  'mock  dark 
heaven's  light.' 

I.  ii.  26.  'young  men';  Johnson  conj.  'yeomen.' 

I.  ii.  32.  'Which  on  more  view'  etc. ;  so  Quartos  4,  5 ;  Quartos 
2,  3,  Folios,  'one'  for  'on';  Quarto  i,  'Such,  amongst  view  of 
many  myne  being  one ' ;  perhaps  we  shoulld  read  with  Mason, 
'Whilst  on  more  view  of  many,  mine  being  one';  many  readings 
have  been  proposed. 

I.  iii.  2)2-  'Shake,  quoth  the  dove-house,'  referring  to  the  ef- 
fects of  the  earthquake;  Daniel  conj.  'goeth'  for  'quoth.' 

I.  iii.  66,  67.  'honour';  Pope's  emendation  (from  Quarto  i)  ; 
Quartos,  Folios,  'hours'  and  'hour.' 

I.  iv.  39.  'The  game  was  ne'er  so  fair,  and  I  am  done';  "an 
allusion  to  an  old  proverbial  saying  which  advises  to  give  over 
when  the  game  is  at  the  fairest"   (Ritson). 

I.  iv.  41.  Cp.  Chaucer's  Manciple's  Prologue: — 

Ther  gan  our  hoste  for  to  jape  and  pleye, 
And  seyde,  sirs,  what! 

Dun  is  in  the  myre! 

A  proverbial  expression  originally  used  in  an  old  rural  sport, 
and  meaning,  "  we  are  all  at  a  standstill !  "  or,  "  let  us  make  an 
effort  to  move  on"  (vide  Prof.  Skeat's  Notes  to  Canterbury 
Tales,  Vol.  v.  p.  435-6). 

I.  iv.  42.  '  Of  this  sir-reverence  love ' ;  Singer's  emendation 
from  (Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos  read  'Or  saue  you  reuerence  hue'] 
Folios  I,  2,  3,  'Or  saue  your  reuerence  loue.' 

I.  iv.  45.  Capell's  emendation;  (Quarto  i)  reads  'We  burne 
our  lights  by  night,  like  Lampes  by  day';  Quartos,  'We  waste 
our  lights  in  vaine,  lights  lights  by  day';  Folios,  'We  wast  our 
lights  in  vaine,  lights,  lights,  by  day.' 

I.  iv.  66.  'Maid';  Pope's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos, 
Folio  I,  'man';  Folios  2,  3,  4,  'woman';  Ulrici  (from  Collier 
MS.),  'milk-maid.' 

I.  iv.  77 .  'Courtier's' ;  Pope  (from  Quarto  .1)  reads  'law- 
yer's'; Theobald  conj.  '  taylor's.' 

I.  iv.  85.  'Of  healths';  Thirlby  conj.  'Of  delves';  Keightley 
conj.  '  Trenches';  Clark  MS.  'Of  hilts.' 

I.  iv.  gi.  '  Untangled' ;  'which  once  u.,'  the  untangling  of 
which. 

156 


I 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

I.  iv,  103.  'Face'',  Pope's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos, 
Folios,  '  side  ' ;  Collier  MS.,  '  tide.' 

I.  V.  18.  'Will  have  a  bout';  (Quarto  i),  '-will  haue  about'; 
Quartos,  Folios,  '  will  zvalke  about ' ;  Pope,  '  we'll  have  a  bout ' ; 
l3aniel,  '  will  walke  a  bout.' 

I.  V.  46.  'It  seems  she'',  so  (Quarto  i)  Quartos,  Folio  i; 
Folios  2,  3,  4,  read  'Her  beauty'',  Bulloch  conj.  'In  streams  she'; 
etc. 

II.  i.  10.  'pronounce' ;  Quartos  2,  3,  ' prouaunt' ;  Folio  i, 
'Prouant' ',  Folios  2,  3,  4,  'Couply';  Rowe,  'couple.' 

II.  1.  13.  'trim,'  Steevens  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos,  Folios, 
'  true.' 

II.  i.  13.  'Young  Adam  Cupid,  he  that  shot  so  trim';  all  the 
early  editions  read  'Abraham  Cupid';  Theobald  conjectured  '  au- 
born';  Upton,  'Adam,'  referring  to  Adam  Bell,  the  famous  archer. 
It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  'Abram,'  'Abraham,'  was 
a  regular  corrupt  form  of  auburn,  formerly  often  written  abern, 
abron. 

II.  ii.  41-42.  '  nor  any  other  part  Belonging  to  a  man.  O  be 
some  other  name!'  Malone's  emendation;  Pope  (from  Quarto 
i)  reads  'nor  any  other  part' ;  Quartos,  Folios,  '  O  be  some  other 
name  Belonging  to  a  man.' 

II.  ii.  44.  'name';  so  Pope  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos,  Folios, 
'  word.' 

II.  ii.  61.  'fair  maid,  if  either  thee  dislike' ;  so  Quartos,  Folios; 
Pope  (from  Quarto  i)  reads  'fair  saint  .  .  .  displease'; 
Theobald,  'fair  saint  .  .  .  dislike';  Grant  White,  'fair  maid 
.     .     .     displease';  Anon,  conj.,  'fair  maid     .     .     .     mislike.' 

II.  ii.  107.  'blessed  moon  I  swear';  so  (Quarto  i)  Quartos; 
Folios  read  '  moon  I  vow.' 

II.  ii.  153.  'suit';  so  Quarto  5;  Quarto  4,  '  sute';  Quartos  2, 
3,  Folios,  'strife.' 

II.  ii.  189.  'father's  cell';  Capell's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ; 
Quartos,  Folios  3,  4,  'Friers  close  cell ' ;  Folios  i,  2,  'Fries  close 
cell' 

II.  iii.  1-4.  Omitted  in  Folios  2,  3,  4. 

II.  iii.  4.  'day's  path  and  Titan's  fiery  wheels';  Malone's  read- 
ing (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos,  Folio  i,  'day's  path,  and  Titan's 
burning  wheels';  Pope,  'day's  pathzvay,  made  by  Titan's  wheels.' 

II.  iii.  23.  'small,'  so  Pope  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos,  Folios, 
^  weake.' 

II.  iv.  157.  '  I  am  none  of  his  skains-mates ' ;  '  skains-mates '  oc- 

157 


Notes 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


curs  nowhere  else,  its  origin  is  uncertain ;  it  is  perhaps  con- 
nected with  skain,  skein,  '  as  if  associated  in  winding  yarns  '  (or 
skain's  =  gen.  of  skain,  skean  =  dagger ;  'as  if  a  brother  in 
arms '). 

II.  vi.  34.  '  sum  up  sum  of  half  my  ' ;  so  Quartos  2,  3 ;  Quartos 
4,  5,  ' summe  up  some  of  halfe  my';  Folios,  'sum  up  some  of 
halfe  my/  etc. 

III.  i.  115.  'kinsman/  Capell's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ; 
Quarto  5,  other  texts,  '  cousin.' 

III.  i.  168.  'agile';  Quarto  i,  Quartos  4,  5,  '  agill' ;  Quartos  2, 
3,  Folio  I,  '  aged ' ;  Folios  2,  3,  4,  '  able.' 

III.  i.  190.  'hate's';  Knight's  emendation;  Quartos,  Folios, 
read  '  hearts ' ;  Hanmer,  '  heats' ' ;  Johnson,  '  hearts'/ 

III.  ii.  6.  'That  runaways  eyes  may  wink';  an  epitome  of  the 
various  interpretations  of  these  words  fills  no  less  than  twenty- 
eight  pages  of  Furness'  variorum  edition ;  the  Quartos  and  Folios 
do  not  mark  the  possessive,  and  scholars  are  divided  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  singular  or  plural  possessive.  The  Cambridge  editors 
evidently  make  '' n/Hatcay.?'' =  runagates,  night-prowlers.  The 
present  editor  cannot  bring  himself  to  believe  that  Shakespeare 
intended  this  reading,  and  has  substituted  '  Runazvay's '  in  the 
sense  of  '  Day's  ' ;  '  Runaway '  may  have  belonged  to  the  playful 
phraseology  of  Elizabethan  girls, 
and  savours  of  the  expressive  lan- 
guage of  children's  rhymes. 

Ill,  ii.  66.  'dear-loved' ;  Pope's 
reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quar- 
tos, Folios,  read  '  dearest.' 

III.  ii.  76.  '  Dove-feather' d  ra- 
ven ' ;  Theobald's  emendation  of 
Quartos  2,  3,  Folio  i,  '  Rauenous 
douefeatherd  Rauen ;  Quartos  4, 
5,  Folios  2,  3,  4,  'Rauenous  done, 
feathred  Rauen.' 

III.  ii.  79.  'damned  saint';  so 
Quartos  4,  5,  Folios  2,  3,  4 ;  Quar- 
tos 2,  3,  '  dimme  saint';  Folio  i, 
*  dimne  saint/ 

III.  iii.  52.  'Thou  fond  mad  man, 
hear  me  hut  speak  a  zuord' ;  Malone's  emendation  (from  Quarto 
i)  ;  Quartos  2,  3.  '  Then  fond  mad  man,  heare  me  a  little  speake'; 
Quartos  4,  5,  'Thou  fond  mad  man,  heare  me  a  little  speake'} 

158 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

Folio  I,  '  Then  fond  mad  man,  heare  me  speake ' ;  Folios  2,  3,  4, 
'  Fond  mad  man,  heare  me  speake.' 

III.  iii.  132,  'Like  powder  in  a  skill'ess  soldier's  flask.'  (Cp.  the 
flask  in  the  cut  [page  158]  which  is  reproduced  from  The  Exer- 
cise of  Armes,  16 19.) 

III.  V.  31.  According  to  Warburton  there  is  a  popular  saying 
to  this  effect,  due  to  the  fact  that  the  toad  has  very  fine  eyes  and 
the  lark  very  ugly  ones. 

III.  V.  55.  'below';  Pope's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ;  Quartos, 
Folios,  '  so  lowe.' 

III.  V.  152.  Omitted  in  Folios. 

III.  V.  166.  'lent';  Pope  (from  Quarto  i)  reads  'sent';  Cow- 
den  Clarke  conj.  'left.' 

III.  V.  177-179.  So  Quarto  2  and  the  other  Quartos;  Quarto  i 
reads : — 

""  Goas  blessed  mother  wife  it  mads  me, 
Day,  night,  early,  late,  at  home,  abroad, 
Alone,  in  company,  waking  or  sleeping. 
Still  my  care  hath  been  to  see  her  matcht." 

Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  smooth  the  lines,  but  perhaps 
they  express  Capulet's  excitement. 

III.  V.  182.  'train'd';  Capell's  reading  (from  Quarto  i)  ; 
Quartos  3.  4,  5,  Folios,  '  allied  ' ;  Quarto  2,  '  Hand ' ;  etc. 

IV.  i.  3.  'nothing  slow  to  slack  his  haste';  Collier  conj.  'some- 
thing slow'  etc. ;  Quarto  i,  '  nothing  slack  to  slow  his  haste ' ; 
Johnson  conj.  'nothing  slozv  to  back  his  haste.' 

IV.  i.  16.  Omitted  in  Quartos,  Folios. 

IV.  i.  45.  'cure,'  so  (Quarto  i)  Quarto  5;  Quartos  2,  3,  4,; 
Folios,  '  care.' 

IV.  i.  115-116.  'and  he  and  I  Will  watch  thy  waking';  the 
reading  of  Quartos  3,  4,  5 ;  omitted  in  Folios. 

IV.  V.  106-107.  '  O  play  me  some  merry  dump,  to  comfort  me'; 
the  reading  of  Quartos ;  omitted  in  Folios. 

IV.  V.  125-127.  These  lines  are  from  Richard  Edwards'  Para- 
dise of  Dainty  Devices,   1576, 

V.  i.  I.  '  flattering  truth ' ;  so  Quartos,  Folios ;  Malone  follow- 
ing (Quarto  i)  reads  'flattering  eye';  Collier  MS.,  "flattering 
death';  Grant  White,  'flattering  sooth';  etc. 

V.  i.  24.  '/  defy  you';  Pope  reading  (Quarto  i),  ' I  defle  my'; 
Quartos  2,  3,  4,  Folio  i,  'I  denie  you';  Folios  2,  3,  4,  Quarto  5,  'I 
deny  you.' 

159 


Notes 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 


V.  i.  27.  '/  do  beseech  you,  sir,  have  patience'',   Pope   (from 
Quarto  i)    reads  'Pardon  me  sir,  I  dare  not  leave  you  thus'; 
Steevens    (1793)    reads  'Pardon  me, 

-^  .. ^1        sir,  I  will  not  leave  you  thus.' 

irT^^^ !^^^^  ^-   ^-   '^■4-  '  ^^^   ^""^  needy   shop   a 

>5^xS<^Sii  w  i.iMn»rNN\  tortoise    hung.    An    alligator    stuif'd 

and  other  skins  of  ill-shaped  fishes.' 
(Cp.  illustration  from  a  picture  by 
Teniers.) 

V.    iii.    122.  '  Stumbled   at   graves,' 
etc. : — 

"For  many  men  that  stumble  at  the 
threshold 
Are  well  foretold  that  danger  lurks 
within;  " 
3  Henry  VI.,  IV.  vii.  11,  12. 

V.  iii.  169.  'rust';  so  Quartos,  Folios;  Hazlitt  (from  Quarto 
i)  reads  '  rest.' 

V.  iii.  205.  '  it,'  i.e.  the  dagger ;  so  Quarto  2 ;  the  rest  read  'is.' 

'mis-sheathed' ;  the  reading  of  Folio  4;    Folios   i,  2,  3, 

Quarto  5,  '  misheathcd' ;  Quarto  2,  '  missheathd' ;  Quartos  3,  4, 
'  missheath'd  ' ;  Jackson  conj.  '  mi-sheath' d.' 

V.  iii.  211.  After  this  line  Quarto  i  reads  'and  young  Benvolio 
is  deceased  too.' 


160 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 

PROLOGUE. 

Why  the  Prologue  was  not  included  in  the  Folios,  White  finds 
it  difficult  to  conjecture,  as  all  the  Quartos  have  it.  In  the  Quarto 
of  1597  it  appears  with  two  lines  less  and  many  variations,  as 
follows : — 

"  Two  household  Frends,  alike  in  dignitie, 

(In  faire  Verona,  where  we  lay  our  Scene,) 
From  ciuill  broyles  broke  into  enmitie, 

Whose  civill  warre  makes  civill  hands  vncleane. 
From  forth  the  fatall  loynes  of  these  two  foes 

A  paire  of  starre-crost  Lovers  tooke  their  life; 
Whose  misaduentures,  piteous  ouerthrowes, 

(Through  the  continuing  of  their  Fathers  strife, 
And  death-markt  passage  of  their  Parents'  rage,) 

Is  now  the  two  howres  traffique  of  our  Stage. 
The  which  if  you  with  patient  ears  attend, 

What  here  we  want,  wee'l  studie  to  amend." 

2.  Brooke's  poem  opens  with  a  description  of  Verona : — 

"  There  is  beyonde  the  Alps,  a  towne  of  auncient  fame 
Whose  bright  renoune  yet  shineth  cleare,  Verona  men  it  name : 
Bylt  in  an  happy  time,  bylt  on  a  fertile  soyle : 
Maynteined  by  the  heauenly  fates,  and  by  the  townish  toyle. 
The  fruitefull  hilles  aboue,  the  pleasant  vales  belowe, 
The  siluer  streame  with  chanell  depe.  that  through  the  towne 
doth  flow,"  etc. 

5,  6.  This  Prologue  is  written  in  the  form  of  the  Shakespearian 
sonnet.    The  note  of  fate  is  struck  in  these  two  lines. 

161 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

"  Shakespeare,"  says  Corson,  "  is  always  especially  happy  in  the 
opening  scenes  of  his  plays.  They  generally  strike  the  keynote 
of  the  whole  dramatic  action.  Romeo  and  Juliet  is  no  exception 
to  this.  Furthermore,  the  opening  scene  is,  of  itself,  a  sufficient 
refutation  of  much  of  the  commentary  on  the  play,  which  ascribes 
the  misadventured  piteous  overthrows  of  the  two  lovers,  to  sub- 
jective causes." 

S2.  two  of  the  house  of  Montagues: — The  partisans  of  the  Mon- 
tague family  wore  a  token  in  their  hats  in  order  to  distinguish 
them  from  their  enemies  the  Capulets.  Hence  throughout  this 
play  they  are  known  at  a  distance. 

41.  bite  my  thumb : — This  kind  of  insult  for  beginning  a  quarrel 
was  common.  Dekker,  in  his  Dead  Term,  1608,  describing  the 
various  groups  that  daily  frequented  St.  Paul's,  says,  "  What 
swearing  is  there,  what  shouldering,  what  justling,  what  jeering, 
what  byting  of  thumbs  to  beget  quarrels !  " 

57,  58.  one  of  my  master's  kinsmen : — Gregory  is  supposed  to 
mean  Tybalt,  whom  he  sees  coming  in  another  direction  from 
that  whence  Benvolio  approaches.  Upon  the  foregoing  part  of 
this  scene  Coleridge  has  the  following :  "  With  his  accustomed 
judgement,  Shakespeare  has  begun  by  placing  before  us  a  lively 
picture  of  all  the  impulses  of  the  play ;  and,  as  nature  ever  presents 
two  sides,  one  for  Heraclitus,  and  one  for  Democritus,  he  has,  by 
way  of  prelude,  shown  the  laughable  absurdity  of  the  evil  by  the 
contagion  of  it  reaching  the  servants,  who  have  so  little  to  do  with 
it,  but  who  are  under  the  necessity  of  letting  the  superfluity  of 
sensorial  power  fly  off  through  the  escape-valve  of  wit-combats, 
and  of  quarrelling  wath  weapons  of  sharper  edge,  all  in  humble 
imitation  of  their  masters.  Yet  there  is  a  sort  of  unhired  fidelity, 
an  ourishness  about  all  this,  that  makes  it  rest  pleasant  on  one's 
feelings.  All  the  first  Scene,  down  to  the  conclusion  of  the 
Prince's  speech,  is  a  motley  dance  of  all  ranks  and  ages  to  one 
tune,  as  if  the  horn  of  Huon  had  been  playing  behind  the  scenes." 

72.  Clubs: — The  old  custom  of  crying  out,  clubs,  clubs,  in  case 
of  any  tumult  occurring  in  the  streets  of  London,  has  been  made 
familiar  by  Scott  in  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel  This  transferring  of 
London  customs  to  an  Italian  city  is  justified  by  Knight:     "The 

162 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

cry  of  clubs  by  the  citizens  of  Verona  expressed  an  idea  of  popular 
movement,  which  could  not  have  been  conveyed  half  so  emphatic- 
ally in  a  foreign  phrase." 

74.  long  sword : — This  was  the  weapon  used  in  active  warfare ; 
a  lighter  and  shorter  one  being  w:)rn  for  ornament. 

loi.  Free-town  is  given  in  Brooke's  poem  as  the  name  of  a 
castle  belonging  to  Capulet. 

152.  the  sun  : — Malone,  who  prints  the  same  in  his  text,  as  "  a 
mode  of  expression  not  uncommon  in  Shakespeare's  time,"  sup- 
ports the  sun  by  a  parallel  from  Daniel's  sonnets : — 

"  And  whilst  thou  spread'st  unto  the  rising  sunne 
The  fairest  Hozver  that  ever  saw  the  light, 
Now  joy  thy  time,  before  thy  sweet  be  done," 

170  et  seq.  This  string  of  antithetical  conceits  seems  absurd 
enough  to  us ;  but  such  was  the  most  approved  way  of  describing 
love  in  Shakespeare's  time,  as  for  some  ages  before.  Petrarch 
and  Chaucer  used  it,  and  divers  old  English  poets  and  ballad- 
makers  abound  in  it.  Such  an  affected  way  of  speaking  shows  the 
state  of  Romeo's  mind,  that  his  love  is  rather  self-generated  than 
inspired  by  any  object. 

172.  dine : — A  lover,  of  course,  could  not  seriously  think  of  his 
dinner.     Romeo  wishes  to  turn  aside  Benvolio's  inquiries. 

174.  Here 's  much,  etc. : — "  Romeo,"  says  Clarke,  "  is  speaking 
in  the  riddling  mood  now  upon  him.  He  means  that  the  fray  has 
much  to  do  with  the  hate  between  the  rival  houses,  yet  affects  him 
more,  inasmuch  as  his  Rosaline  is  of  the  Capulet  family ;  that  what 
has  just  passed  has  had  reference  to  the  animosity  which  divides 
the  two  factions,  and  has  also  shown  him  the  anxious  affection 
felt  on  his  account  by  his  father  and  Benvolio.  To  the  latter  he 
refers  where  he  says,  '  This  love  that  thou  hast  shown,'  etc." 

209.  And  in  strong  proof,  etc. : — Steevens  here  observes  :  "  As 
this  play  was  written  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  I  cannot 
help  regarding  these  speeches  of  Romeo  as  an  oblique  compliment 
toher  majesty,  who  was  not  liable  to  be  displeased  at  hearing  her 
chastity  praised  after  she  was  suspected  to  have  lost  it,  or  her 
beauty  commended  in  the  67th  year  of  her  age,  though  she  never 
possessed  any  when  she  was  young." 

215.  her  store: — Dowden  says,  "I  think  her  store  means  beauty's 
store.     Rosaline  is  the  possessor  of  beauty  and  also  of  beauty's 

163 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

store,  that  is,  the  reserve  of  beauty  (in  posterity)  or  the  propagat- 
ing power  of  beauty.  Compare  Sonnets,  XL,  and  especially  the 
lines : — 

*  Let  those  whom  Nature  hath  not  made  for  store, 
Harsh,  featureless  and  rude,  barrenly  perish.' 

If  Rosaline  dies  wedded,  beauty  indeed  dies ;  but  if  she  dies  single, 
beauty  dies  and  also  beauty's  store." 

229.  These  happy  masks : — This  has  been  taken  as  an  allusion  to 
the  masks  worn  by  the  female  spectators  of  the  play;  but  we  are 
probably  to  suppose  that  these  means  no  more  than  the,  being  used 
indefinitely  for  designating  the  masks  worn  in  those  days. 

236.  thou  canst  not  teach  me  to  forget: — Coleridge  says:  "  The 
necessity  of  loving  creates  an  object  for  itself  in  man  and  woman; 
and  yet  there  is  a  difference  in  this  respect  between  the  sexes, 
though  only  to  be  known  by  a  perception  of  it.  It  would  have  dis- 
pleased us  if  Juliet  had  been  represented  as  already  in  love,  or  as 
fancying  herself  so :  but  no  one,  I  believe,  ever  experiences  any 
shock  at  Romeo's  forgetting  his  Rosaline,  who  had  been  a  mere 
name  for  the  yearning  of  his  youthful  imagination,  and  rushing 
into  his  passion  for  Juliet." 

Scene  II. 

52.  plantain-leaf : — So  referred  to,  as  a  salve  for  a  broken  shin, 
in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  III.  i.  75.  Romeo  would  turn  aside  Ben- 
volio's  talk  of  remedies  for  love  with  a  jest  on  the  popular  remedy 
for  an  ailment  less  hard  to  cure  than  a  broken  heart ;  let  us  discuss 
broken  shins,  not  deeper  wounds. 

92.  who,  often  drown  d : — This  is  an  allusion  to  the  old  belief 
that  water  would  not  strangle  a  witch,  who,  if  thrown  into  it, 
would  not  sink.  So  in  King  James's  Dcemonology :  "  It  appeares 
that  God  hath  appointed  for  a  supernatural  signe  of  the  monstrous 
impietie  of  witches,  that  the  water  shall  refuse  to  receive  them  in 
her  bosom  that  have  shaken  off  them  the  sacred  water  of  baptism, 
and  wilfully  refused  the  benefit  thereof." 

Scene  III. 

The  greater  part  of  this  Scene  is  printed  as  prose  in  all  the  old         ' 
copies.     Capell  first  saw  that  it  was  verse. 

164 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

4.  God  forbid! — "An  exquisite  touch  of  nature,"  says  Staunton. 
"  The  old  Nurse,  in  her  fond  garrulity,  uses  lady-bird  as  a  term  of 
endearment :  but  recollecting  its  application  to  a  female  of  loose 
manners,  checks  herself — God  forbid  her  darling  should  prove 
such  a  one  !  " 

24.  'Tis  since  the  earthquake,  etc. : — Upon  this  Tyrwhitt  re- 
marks, "  There  is  no  such  circumstance,  I  believe,  mentioned  in 
any  of  the  novels  from  which  Shakespeare  may  be  supposed  to 
have  drawn  his  story;  and  therefore  it  seems  probable  that  he 
had  in  view  the  earthquake  which  had  really  been  felt  in  many 
parts  of  England  in  his  own  time,  viz.,  on  the  6th  of  April,  1580." 
Upon  mature  reflection  Malone  saw  that  this  conjecture  is  sup- 
ported by  Shakespeare's  "  frequent  allusions  to  the  manners  and 
usages  of  England,  and  to  the  events  of  his  own  time,  which  he 
has  described  as  taking  place  wherever  his  scene  happens  to  lie." 

y2.  these  years'. — Juliet  being  fourteen,  Lady  Capulet  is  "much 
upon "  twenty-eight.  Staunton  observes  that  her  husband,  old 
Capulet,  having  done  masking  some  thirty  years  (I.  v.  34),  must 
be  at  least  threescore.     Knight  changes  your  mother  to  a  mother. 

y6.  a  man  of  zvax : — A  man  for  beauty  like  a  model  in  wax ;  see 
III.  iii.  126.  Steevens  quotes  from  Wily  Beguiled :  "  A  man  as 
one  should  picture  him  in  wax  " ;  White,  from  Euphues  and  his 
England :  "  So  exquisite  that  for  shape  he  must  be  framed  in 
wax."     Dyce,  from  Fair  Em  : — 

"  A  body,  were  it  framed  of  wax 
By  all  the  cunning  artists  of  the  world. 
It  could  not  better  be  proportioned." 

Field,  in  A  Woman  is  a  Weathercock,  has  "  By  Jove,  it  is  a  little 
man  of  wax." 

79-94.  What  say  youf — This  bravura  speech  of  ingenious  con- 
ceits is  supposed  by  Ulrici  to  have  a  deep  dramatic  design — to  ex- 
hibit Lady  Capulet  as  an  artificial  woman  of  the  world  in  her 
euphuistic  speech.  In  Dowden's  opinion  it  probably  means  no 
more  than  that  the  writer  was  immature  and  liked  such  conceits. 

Scene  IV. 

1-3.  In  Henry  VIIL,  where  the  King  introduces  himself  at  the 
entertainment  given  by  Wolsey,  he  appears,  like  Romeo  and  his 
companions,  in  a  mask,  and  sends  a  messenger  before  with  an 

165 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

apology  for  his  intrusion.  This  was  a  custom  observed  by  those 
who  came  uninvited,  with  a  desire  to  conceal  themselves,  for  the 
sake  of  intrigue,  or  to  enjoy  the  greater  freedom  of  conversation. 
Their  entry  on  these  occasions  was  always  prefaced  by  some 
speech  in  praise  of  the  beauty  of  the  ladies,  or  the  generosity  of 
the  entertainer;  and  to  the  prolixity  of  such  introductions  it  is 
probable  Romeo  is  made  to  allude.  Of  the  same  kind  of  mas- 
querading see  a  specimen  in  Timon  of  Athens,  I.  ii.,  where  Cupid 
precedes  a  troop  of  ladies  with  a  speech. 

5.  Tartar's  painted  how : — The  Tartarian  bows  resemble  in  their 
form  the  old  Roman  or  Cupid's  bow,  such  as  we  see  on  medals 
and  bas-reliefs.  Shakespeare  uses  the  epithet  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  English  bow,  whose  shape  is  the  segment  of  a  circle. 

53.  Queen  Mab : — Thom  states  that  no  earlier  mention  of  Mab 
than  the  above  is  known;  that  no  doubt  Shakespeare  got  the  name 
from  folk-lore  of  his  own  time;  that  Mab  in  Welsh  means  an 
infant;  and  that  Beaufort,  in  his  Ancient  Topography  of  Ireland, 
mentions  Mabh  as  the  chief  of  the  Irish  fairies.  Drayton,  with 
Shakespeare's  description  before  him,  writes,  in  his  happiest  man- 
ner, of  Queen  Mab  in  Nymphidia  the  Court  of  Fayrie.  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  identify  Queen  Mab  with  Dame  Abunde  or 
Habunde;  and  again  with  the  Irish  Queen  Maeve.  Sir  H.  Ellis 
says  that  in  Warwickshire  "  Mab-led "  (pronounced  Mob-led) 
signifies  led  astray  by  a  will-o'-the-wisp. 

54.  the  fairies'  midzvife : — "  Not  midwife  to  the  fairies,"  says 
Steevens,  "  but  the  fairy  whose  department  it  was  to  deliver  the 
fancies  of  sleeping  men  of  their  dreams,  those  '  children  of  an  idle 
brain.'  "    Hudson  follows  this  interpretation. 

Scene  V. 

42.  What  lady  's  that,  etc. : — Thus  in  Brooke's  poem : — 
"  At  length  he  saw  a  mayd,  right  fayre  of  perfect  shape : 
Which  Theseus,  or  Paris  would  haue  chosen  to  their  rape. 
Whom  erst  he  neuer  sawe,  of  all  she  pleasde  him  most: 
Within  himselfe  he  sayd  to  her.  thou  iustly  mayst  thee  boste, 
Of  perfit  shapes  renoune.  and  Beauties  sounding  prayse: 
Whose  like  ne  hath,  ne  shalbe  scene,  ne  liueth  in  our  dayes. 
And  whilest  he  fixd  on  her  his  partiall  perced  eye, 
His  former  loue,  for  which  of  late  he  ready  was  to  dye. 
Is  nowe  as  quite  forgotte,  as  it  had  neuer  been." 

166 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

io8.  [Kissing  her.]  The  kissing  of  a  lady  at  a  social  gathering 
seems  not  to  have  been  thought  indecorous.  So  in  Henry  VIII. 
we  have  Lord  Sands  kissing  Anne  Bullen,  at  the  supper  given  by 
Wolsey.  White  remarks  on  this  bit  of  dialogue:  "I  have  never 
seen  a  Juliet  on  the  stage,  who  appeared  to  appreciate  the  archness 
of  the  dialogue  with  Romeo  in  this  scene.  .  .  ,  Though  this  is 
the  first  interview  of  the  lovers,  we  do  not  hear  them  speak  until 
the  close  of  their  dialogue,  in  which  they  have  arrived  at  a  pretty 
thorough  understanding  of  their  mutual  feelings.  Juliet  makes  a 
feint  of  parrying  Romeo's  advances,  but  does  it  archly,  and  knows 
that  he  is  to  have  the  kiss  he  sues  for.  .  .  .  And  when  Romeo 
fairly  gets  her  into  the  corner,  towards  which  she  has  been  con- 
triving to  be  driven,  and  he  says,  '  Thus  from  my  lips  by  thine 
my  sin  is  purged,'  and  does  put  them  to  that  purgation,  how  slyly 
the  pretty  puss  gives  him  an  opportunity  to  repeat  the  penance,  by 
replying,  '  Then  have  my  lips  the  sin  that  they  have  took.'  " 

119.  my  life,  etc.: — He  means  that,  as  bereft  of  Juliet  he  should 
die,  his  existence  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  enemy,  Capulet.  These 
lines  are  in  Brooke  : — 

"  So  hath  he  learnd  her  name,  and  knowth  she  is  no  geast. 
Her  father  was  a  Capilet,  and  master  of  the  feast. 
Thus  hath  his  foe  in  choyse  to  geue  him  lyfe  or  death : 
That  scarsely  can  his  wofull  brest  keepe  in  the  liuely  breath." 

129.  Come  hither,  nurse,  etc. : — Again  in  Brooke : — 

"  As  carefull  was  the  mayde  what  way  were  best  deuise 
To  learne  his  name,  that  intertaind  her  in  so  gentle  wise. 
Of  whom  her  hart  receiued  so  deepe,  so  wyde  a  wound, 
An  auncient  dame  she  calde  to  her,  and  in  her  eare  gan  rounde. 
This  old  dame  in  her  youth,  had  nurst  her  with  her  mylke. 
With  slender  nedle  taught  her  sow,  and  how  to  spin  with  silke. 
What  twayne  are  those  (quoth  she)  which  prease  vnto  the  doore, 
Whose  pages  in  theyr  hand  doe  beare,  two  toorches  light  before. 
And  then  as  eche  of  them  had  of  his  houshold  name. 
So  she  him  namde  yet  once  agayne  the  yong  and  wyly  dame. 
And  tell  me  who  is  he  with  vysor  in  his  hand 
That  yender  doth  in  masking  weede  besyde  the  window  stand. 
His  name  is  Romeus  (said  shee)  a  Montegewe. 
Whose  fathers  pryde  first  styrd  the  strife  which  both  your  hous- 
holdes  rewe." 


167 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

13.  Adam  Cupid '.'^'Dow den  says:  ''Upton's  conjecture  Adam 
'(easily  misread  Abram)  is  generally  accepted,  the  allusion  being 
to  the  great  archer,  Adam  Bell,  famous  in  ballad  poetry.  Compare 
Much  Ado,  I.  i.  257-259:  '  Shoot  at  me;  and  he  that  hits  me,  let 
him  be  clapped  on  the  shoulder,  and  called  Adam.'  If  the  source 
of  the  Cophetua  ballad  were  found,  which  may  lurk  in  some  old 
book  on  Africa,  a  bowman  named  Abraham  might  be  discovered. 
An  Ethiopian  king  was  so  named.  If  '  young  Abraham '  is  named 
after  the  patriarch,  the  nickname  must  mean  '  father  of  many 
nations'  (Genesis  xvii.  5),  not  wholly  inappropriate  to  Cupid. 
Knight  supposed  that  cheat  was  meant,  the  allusion  being  to  the 
Abraham-men  of  Elizabethan  days — vagabonds,  bare-armed  and 
bare-legged,  pretending  madness.  In  S.  Rowlands's  Martin  Mark- 
all  (about  1609),  he  gives  Abram  as  a  slang  word  meaning  inad. 
In  Street  Robberies  consider' d  (about  1700)  Abram  is  given  as  a 
cant  word  for  naked,  which  would  suit  Cupid  well,  but,  though 
clearly  a  relic  of  the  Abraham-men,  I  have  found  no  earlier  ex- 
ample in  this  sense.  Again,  as  Theobald  observed,  abraham  and 
abram  are  old  spellings  of  auburn  (Coriolanns,  II.  iil.  21,  Folio 
text)  ;  many  examples  might  be  cited.  .  .  .  White  reads  '  au- 
burn '  here.  Finally,  the  nickname  may  be  an  allusion  to  some 
forgotten  Elizabethan  contemporary." 

18.  Jiigh  forehead: — Our  Elizabethan  ancestors  had  a  perverted 
liking  for  a  bald  brow.  See  the  Two  Gentlemen  of  l/'erona,  IV. 
iv.  198 :    "  Ay,  but  her  forehead  's  low." 

Scene  II. 

7.  Be  not  her  maid : — That  is,  be  not  a  votary  to  the  moon,  or 
Diana. 

31.  the  lazy-pacing  clouds: — So  the  first  Quarto.  The  other  old 
copies  have  "  lazie-pitMng  clouds."  Collier's  second  Folio  changes 
puffing  to  passing.  "  Take  notice,"  says  Coleridge,  "  in  this  en- 
chanting scene  of  the  contrast  of  Romeo's  love  with  his  former 
fancy;  and  weigh  the  skill  shown  in  justifying  him  from  his  in- 
constancy by  making  us  feel  the  difference  of  his  passion.  Yet 
this,  too,  is  a  love  in,  although  not  merely  of,  the  imagination." 

92,  93.  at  lovers'  perjuries,  etc. : — This  Shakespeare  is  supposed 

168 


i 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

to  have  found  in  Ovid's  Art  of  Love — perhaps  in  Marlowe's  trans- 
lation : — 

"  For  Jove  himself  sits  in  the  azure  skies, 
And  laughs  below  at  lovers'  perjuries." 

116-124.  Well,  do  not  swear,  etc.: — Upon  this  passage  Cole- 
ridge remarks :  "  With  love,  pure  love,  there  is  always  an  anxiety 
for  the  safety  of  the  object,  a  disinterestedness,  by  which  it  is 
distinguished  from  the  counterfeits  of  its  name.  Compare  this 
scene  with  Act  III.  Sc.  i.  of  The  Tempest.  I  do  not  know  a  more 
wonderful  instance  of  Shakespeare's  mastery  in  playing  a  dis- 
tinctly rememberable  variety  on  the  same  remembered  air,  than  in 
the  transporting  love-confessions  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  Fer- 
dinand and  Miranda." 

142  et  seq.  In  Brooke's  poem  Juliet  uses  similar  expressions : — 

"  But  if  your  thought  be  chaste,  and  have  on  vertue  ground; 
If  wedlocke  be  the  marke,  which  your  desire  hath  found; 
Obedience  set  aside,  unto  my  parentes  dewe. 
The    quarrell    eke    that    long   agoe   betweene    our    householdes 

grewe ; 
Both  me  and  myne  I  will  all  whole  to  you  betake, 
And,  following  you  whereso  you  goe,  my  fathers  house  forsake. 
But  if  by  wanton  love  and  by  unlawfull  sute 
You  thinke  to  plucke  my  maydehood's  dainty  frute, 
You  are  begylde ;  and  now  your  Juliet  you  beseekes 
To  cease  your  sute,  and  suffer  her  to  live  emong  her  likes." 

154.  To-morrow: — "Exquisitely,"  says  Clarke,  "has  Shake- 
speare made  Juliet  pause  not  a  moment  on  the  impossible  alter- 
native that  Romeo  means  otherwise  than  well.  The  breathless 
hurry  with  breathing  earnestness  in  all  that  Juliet  utters  during 
this  scene  is  marvellously  true  to  the  pulsing  rapture  of  a  young 
girl's  heart  on  first  learning  that  she  loves  and  is  beloved." 

Scene  III. 

[Friar  Laurence.]  "  The  reverend  character  of  the  Friar," 
says  Coleridge,  "  like  all  Shakespeare's  representations  of  the 
great  professions,  is  very  delightful  and  tranquillizing,  yet  it  is 
no  digression,  but  immediately  necessary  to  the  carrying  on  of 
the  plot." 

7, 8.  /  must  up-Ull,  etc. : — Shakespeare   has   here  prepared  us 

i6g 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

for  the  part  Friar  Laurence  is  afterwards  to  sustain.  Having 
thus  early  discovered  him  to  be  a  chemist,  we  are  not  surprised 
when  we  find  him  furnishing  the  draught  which  produces  the 
catastrophe  of  the  piece. 

9,10.  Lucretius,  v.  259,  has  the  same  thought:  "  Omniparens, 
eadem  rerum  commune  sepulcrum."  Likewise  Mikon,  in  Para- 
dise Lost,  ii.  911:  "The  womb  of  nature,  and  perhaps  her 
grave." 

Scene  IV. 

19.  prince  of  cats: — Tybert  is  the  name  given  to  a  cat  in 
Reynard  the  Fox.  So  in  Dekker's  Satiromastix,  1602:  "  Tho' 
you  were  Tybert,  prince  of  long-tail'd  cats."  Again,  in  Nash's 
Have  With  You,  etc. :    "  Not  Tibalt  prince  of  cats." 

25,26.  the  first  and  second  cause: — Meaning  causes  for  which 
a  man  is  to  fight. 

33.  grandsire: — Humorously  apostrophizing  his  ancestors,  whose 
sober  times  were  unacquainted  with  the  fopperies  here  complained 
of. 

35-37-  "^^^0  stand  .  .  .  bench : — During  the  period  of  great 
"  boulstered  breeches,"  it  is  said  to  have  been  necessary  to  cut 
away  hollow  places  in  the  benches  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
without  which  those  who  stood  on  the  nezv  form  could  not  sit  at 
ease  on  the  old  bench.  Mercutio  is  making  game  of  smart  fellows 
who  with  copious  use  of  fencing-words  pose  as  experts  with  the 
weapons. 

45.  a  grey  eye : — Apparently  what  we  now  call  a  blue  eye.  He 
means  to  admit  that  Thisbe  had  a  tolerably  fine  eye. 

y^.  zvild-goose  chase  : — One  kind  of  horse-race  which  resembled 
the  flight  of  "wild  geese  was  formerly  known  by  this  name.  Two 
horses  were  started  together,  and  whichever  rider  could  get  the 
lead,  the  other  rider  was  obliged  to  follow  him  wherever  he  chose 
to  go.     This  explains  the  pleasantry  kept  up  here. 

96,  97.  against  the  hair: — From  a  French  idiom  meaning  much 
the  same  as  the  English  against  the  grain. 

171.  a  fool's  paradise: — Compare  A  Handful  of  Pleasant  De- 
light es,  1584: — 

"  When  they  see  they  may  her  win, 
They  leave  then  where  they  did  begin; 
They  prate,  and  make  the  matter  nice, 
And  leave  her  in  fooles  paradise." 

170 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

And  Rich's  Farewell :  "  Knowing  the  fashion  of  you  men  to  be 
such,  as  by  praisyng  our  beautie,  you  think  to  bring  into  a  fooles 
paradize." 

215.  the  dog's  name: — Ben  Jonson,  in  his  English  Grammar, 
says,  "R  is  the  dog's  letter,  and  hirreth  in  the  sound."  And 
Nash,  in  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,  1600,  speaking  of 
dogs:     "They  arre  and  barke  at  night  against  the  moone." 

Scene  V. 

5.  Which  ten  times  faster,  etc. : — Instead  of  this  line  and  the 
rest  of  the  speech,  the  Quarto  of  1597  has: — 

"  And  runne  more  swift,  than  hastie  powder  fierd, 
Doth  hurrie  from  the  fearfull  Cannons  mouth. 

Enter  Nurse. 
Oh  now  she  comes.     Tell  me  gentle  nurse, 
What  sayes  my  Loue  ?  " 

Scene  VI. 

White  says :  "  The  traces  of  another  hand  than  Shakespeare's 
that  have  attracted  my  attention  in  the  earlier  version  of  this  play 
are  not  many,  but  they  seem  to  me  quite  unmistakable.  The  first 
that  I  noticed  is  the  entire  sixth  Scene  of  Act  II.  .  .  .  The 
variations  from  the  later  version  are  of  the  most  material  nature ; 
or,  rather,  the  whole  Scene  was  rewritten,  and  but  a  few  lines  of 
the  earlier  version  were  retained."  White  thinks  that  some  of 
the  changes  in  the  revision  were  not  for  the  better. 

ACT   THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

II.  Am  I  like  such  a  fellozv? — "The  quietness  of  this  retort," 
says  Clarke,  "  with  the  slight  but  significant  emphasis  which  we 
imagine  thrown  upon  the  /,  admirably  gives  point  to  the  humor- 
ous effect  of  Mercutio's  lecturing  Benvolio — the  sedate  and  peace- 
making Benvolio,  and  lectured  by  Mercutio,  of  all  people ! — for 
the  sin  of  quarrelsomeness." 

16-32.  Nay,  an  there  were  two  such,  etc. : — In  the  Quarto  of 
1597  this  passage  is  given  thus  : — 

171 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

Mer.  Nay,  and  there  were  two  such,  wee  should  haue  none 
shortly.  Didst  not  thou  fall  out  with  a  man  for  cracking  of  nuts, 
hauing  no  other  reason,  but  because  thou  hadst  hasill  eyes?  what 
eye  but  such  an  eye  would  have  pickt  out  such  a  quarrell?  With 
another  for  coughing,  because  hee  wakd  thy  dogge  that  lay  a 
sleepe  in  the  Sunne?  With  a  taylor  for  wearing  his  new  dublet 
before  Easter:  and  with  another  for  tying  his  new  shoes  with 
olde  ribands.     And  yet  thou  wilt  forbid  me  of  quarrelling. 

156.  How  nice  the  quarrel  was : — The  rest  of  this  speech  ap- 
pears thus  in  the  Quarto  of  1597 : — 

"  But  Tibalt  still  persisting  in  his  wrong. 
The  stout  Mercutio  drewe  to  calme  the  storme, 
Which  Romeo  seeing  cal'd  stay  Gentlemen, 
And  on  me  cry'd,  who  drew  to  part  their  strife, 
And  with  his  agill  arme  young  Romeo, 
As  fast  as  tung  cryde  peace,  sought  peace  to  make. 
While  they  were  enterchanging  thrusts  and  blows, 
Under  yong  Romeos  laboring  arme  to  part, 
The  furious  Tybalt  cast  an  envious  thrust, 
That  rid  the  life  of  stout  Mercutio. 
With  that  he  fled,  but  presently  return'd, 
And  with  his  rapier  braved  Romeo : 
That  had  but  newly  entertain'd  revenge. 
And  ere  I  could  draw  forth  my  rapyer 
To  part  their  furie,  downe  did  Tybalt  fall, 
And  this  way  Romeo  fled." 

161.  "  This  small  portion  of  untruth  in  Benvolio's  narrative," 
says  Coleridge,  "  is  finely'conceived." 

Scene  II. 

I.  Gallop  apace : — "  Shakespeare,"  says  Malone,  "  probably  re- 
membered Marlowe's  Edward  II.  iv.  iii. : — 

"  Gallop  apace,  bright  Phoebus,  through  the  sky, 
And  dusky  night,  in  rusty  iron  car, 
Between  you  both  shorten  the  time." 

So  in  Rich's  Farewell,  1583  :  "  The  day  to  his  seeming  passed 
away  so  slowely  that  he  had  thought  the  stately  steedes  had  bin 
tired  that  drawe  the  chariot  of  the  Sunne,  and  wished  that  Phae- 
ton had  beene  there  with  a  whippe." 

172 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

6.  That  runaways'  eyes  may  ivink : — Upon  this,  the  main  diffi- 
culty of  the  passage  which  has  been  perhaps  the  greatest  crux  or 
puzzle  in  Shakespeare,  Dowden  remarks :  "  I  believe  the  genitive 
singular  runazvay's  to  be  right,  and  I  agree  with  Warburton  that 
the  sun  or  Phoebus  is  meant.  It  is  objected  that  Juliet  has  com- 
plained of  the  slow  pace  of  the  sun;  but  now  she  imagines  night 
as  having  arrived,  and  the  tardy  sun  has  proved  himself  to  be  the 
runaway  he  actually  was.  I  do  not  wish  to  innovate  in  the  text, 
and  I  have  left  the  commonly  received  punctuation.  But  a  differ- 
ent punctuation  might  solve  the  difficulty.  The  word  That  (be- 
fore   runazvay's)    may    be    the    demonstrative    pronoun.     .     .     . 

*  That  runaway '  may  mean  '  yonder  runaway,'  or  '  that  runaway 
(of  whom  I  have  spoken).'     The  central  motive  of  the  speech  is 

*  Come  night,  come  Romeo.'  Having  invoked  night  to  spread  the 
•curtain,  Juliet  says,  with  a  thought  of  her  own  joyful  wakeful- 
ness, *  Yonder  sun  may  sleep '  (wink  having  commonly  this 
sense)  ;  and  then  she  calls  on  Romeo  to  leap  to  her  arms.  .  .  . 
If  following  Delius  we  read  runazvays'  eyes,  the  runaways  (if  not 
the  stars)  must  be  wanderers  in  the  streets.  Attempts  have  been 
made  to  produce  an  example  of  runaway  in  such  a  sense,  but,  I 
think,  without  success."  The  different  punctuation  suggested  by 
Dowden  points  the  passage  thus : — 

"  Spread  thy  close  curtains  love-performing  night ! 
— That    [  =  Yonder]    runaway's   eyes   may   wink — and   Romeo, 
Leap  to  these  arms !     Untalk'd  of  and  unseen, 
Lovers  can  see,  etc." 

73-85.  O  serpent  heart,  etc. : — For  this  speech  in  the  Quarto  of 
1597  there  are  merely  these  four  lines : — 

"  O  serpent's  hate  hid  with  a  flowring  face 
O  painted  sepulcher,  including  filth. 
Was  neuer  booke  containing  so  foule  matter 
So  fairly  bound.     Ah  what  ment  Romeo  ?  " 

85-91.  There  's  no  trust  .  .  .  such  a  zvish  : — Coleridge  bids 
us  "  note  the  Nurse's  mistake  of  the  mind's  audible  struggles  with 
itself  for  its  decision  in  toto." 

Scene  III. 

41-44.  The  Quartos  of  1599  and  1609  jumble  various  readings 
together  thus : — 

173 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

"  This  maj^  flies  do,  when  I  from  this  must  fly : 
And  say'st  thou  yet,  that  exile  is  not  death? 
But  Romeo  may  not,  he  is  banished. 
Flies  may  do  this,  but  I  from  this  must  fly : 
They  are  free  men,  but  I  am  banished." 

85,  86.  O  zvocfnl  sympathy,  etc. : — The  old  copies  make  these 
words  a  part  of  the  Nurse's  speech.  They  were  assigned  to  the 
Friar,  at  Farmer's  suggestion. 

109  ct  seq.    Shakespeare  has  here  followed  Brooke's  poem : — 

"  Art  thou,  quoth  he,  a  man  ?   thy  shape  saith,  so  thou  art : 
Thy  crying  and  thy  weeping  eyes  denote  a  womans  hart ; 
For  manly  reason  is  quite  from  of  thy  mynd  outchased. 
And  in  her  stead  affections  lewd,  and  fancies  highly  placed. 
So  that  I  stoode  in  doute  this  howre  (at  the  least) 
If  thou  a  man  or  woman  wert,  or  else  a  brutish  beast." 

119.  JVhy  rairst  thou,  etc.: — Romeo  has  not  railed  on  his  birth 
and  heaven  and  earth ;  but,  as  Malone  remarked,  Brooke's  poem 
describes  him  as  doing  so  in  his  interview  with  the  Friar ;  and 
Shakespeare  followed  the  remonstrance  of  the  Friar  as  it  appears 
in  the  poem,  forgetful  that  he  had  neglected  to  put  into  Romeo's 
mouth  the  rebellious  clamour  for  which  his  spiritual  adviser 
chides  him.     The  passage  in  the  poem  is  as  follows : — 

"  Fyrst  Nature  did  he  blame,  the  author  of  his  lyfe. 
In  which  his  joyes  had  been  so  scant,  and  sorrowes  aye  so  ryf e ; 
The  time  and  place  of  byrth  he  fiersly  did  reprove. 
He  cryed  out  with  open  mouth  against  the  starres  above." 

Scene  V. 

The  Quarto  of  1597  has,  "Enter  Romeo  and  Juliet  at  the 
window,"  and  that  of  1599  and  the  Folio  have,  "Enter  Romeo 
and  Juliet  aloft.'^  The  place  meant,  White  says,  is  plainly  the 
very  same  in  which  Romeo  surprises  Juliet  confessing  to  herself 
her  love  for  him.  Various  editions  have  given  the  scene  in  as 
many  different  ways.  Malone  says  that  Romeo  and  Juliet  prob- 
ably appeared  in  the  balcony  at  the  rear  of  the  old  English  stage. 

1-4.  A  writer  in  the  Pictorial  Shakspere  gives  the  following  on 
this  passage :  "  Amongst  the  fruit-bearing  trees  the  pomegranate 
is  in  some  respects  the  most  beautiful ;  and  therefore,  in  the  South 
of  Europe,  and  in  the  East,  it  has  become  the  chief  ornament  of 

174 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

the  garden.  But  where  did  Shakespeare  find  that  the  nightingale 
haunted  the  pomegranate  tree,  pouring  forth  her  song  from  the 
same  bough,  week  after  week?  Doubtless  in  some  old  travels 
with  which  he  was  familiar.  Chaucer  puts  his  nightingale  in  'a 
fresh  green  laurel-tree ; '  but  the  preference  of  the  nightingale  for 
the  pomegranate  is  unquestionable.  '  The  nightingale  sings  from 
the  pomegranate  groves  in  the  daytime,'  says  Russel,  in  his  ac- 
count of  Aleppo." 

6.  the  herald  of  the  morn : — Shakespeare  has  glorified  this  office 
of  the  lark  with  special  power  in  Venus  and  Adonis,  853  et  seq. : — 

"  Lo,  here  the  gentle  lark,  weary  of  rest, 
From  his  moist  cabinet  mounts  up  on  high. 
And  wakes  the  morning,  from  whose  silver  breast 
The  sun  ariseth  in  his  majesty; 

Who  doth  the  world  so  gloriously  behold, 
The  cedar-tops  and  hills  seem  burnish'd  gold." 

Herford  has  this  note :  "  Repeated  attempts  have  been  made  to 
prove  Shakespeare  indebted  to  Groto's  Hadriana ;  most  positively 
by  Walker  {Hist.  Memoir  on  Ital.  Tragedy,  1799)  and  Klein 
(Gesch.  des  Dramas,  v.  436).  The  passage  to  which  they  attach 
most  weight  is  the  parting  scene  fill,  v.),  where  Latino  (Romeo) 
bids  Hadriana  listen  to  the  nightingale.  But  the  whole  resem- 
blance reduces  itself  to  the  nightingale,  while  even  this  is  quite 
differently  applied.  In  Groto  it  is  actually  the  nightingale  whose 
song  is  heard ;  in  Shakespeare,  Juliet  would  fain  believe  the  lark 
to  be  the  nightingale." 

14.  torch-bearer: — So  in  Sidney's  Arcadia:  "The  moon,  then 
full  (not  thinking  scorn  to  be  a  torch-bearer  to  such  beauty), 
guided  her  steps."  And  Sir  John  Davies's  Orchestra,  speaking 
of  the  Sun : — 

"  When  the  great  torch-bearer  of  heaven  was  gone 
Downe  in  a  maske  unto  the  ocean's  court." 

17-25.  Let  me  be  ta'en,  etc.: — The  Quarto  of  1597  gives  this 
speech  in  a  form  which  the  Poet  will  hardly  be  thought  to  have 
improved : — 

"  Let  me  stay  here,  let  me  be  ta'en,  and  die ; 
If  thou  wilt  have  it  so,  I  am  content. 
I  '11  say  yon  gray  is  not  the  morning's  eye, 
It  is  the  pale  reflex  of  Cynthia's  brow; 
I  '11  say  it  is  the  nightingale  that  beats 

175 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

The  vaulty  heaven  so  far  above  our  heads, 
And  not  the  lark,  the  messenger  of  morn : 
Come,  death,  and  welcome !  Juliet  wills  it  so — 
What  says  my  love?  let 's  talk,  'tis  not  yet  day." 

54.  /  have  an  ill-divining  soul : — "  This  miserable  prescience  of 
futurity,"  says  Steevens,  "  I  have  always  regarded  as  a  circum- 
stance peculiarly  beautiful.  The  same  kind  of  warning  from  the 
mind  Romeo  seems  to  have  been  conscious  of  on  his  going  to  the 
entertainment  at  the  house  of  Capulet "   (I.  iv.  106-109). 

59.  Adieu,  adieu! — Brandes  has  this  comment:  "The  exquisite 
dialogue  in  Juliet's  chamber  at  daybreak  is  a  variation  on  the  mo- 
tive of  all  the  old  Dawn-Songs.  They  always  turn  upon  the 
struggle  in  the  breasts  of  two  lovers  who  have  secretly  passed 
the  night  together,  between  their  reluctance  to  part  and  their 
dread  of  discovery — a  struggle  which  sets  them  debating  whether 
the  light  they  see  comes  from  the  sun  or  the  moon,  and  whether 
it  is  the  nightingale  or  the  lark  whose  song  they  hear." 

86,  87.  Ay,  madam,  etc. : — In  reply  to  Johnson's  criticism  that 
"Juliet's  equivocations  are  rather  too  artful  for  a  mind  disturbed 
by  the  loss  of  a  new  lover,"  Clarke  says :  "  It  appears  to  us  that, 
on  the  contrary,  the  evasions  of  speech  here  used  by  the  young 
girl-wife  are  precisely  those  that  a  mind,  suddenly  and  sharply 
awakened  from  previous  inactivity,  by  desperate  love  and  grief, 
into  self-conscious  strength,  would  instinctively  use.  Especially 
are  they  exactly  the  sort  of  shifts  and  quibbles  that  a  nature  ren- 
dered timid  by  stinted  intercourse  with  her  kind,  and  by  com- 
munion limited  to  the  innocent  confidences  made  by  one  of  her 
age  in  the  confessional,  is  prone  to  resort  to,  when  first  left  to 
itself  in  difficulties  of  situation  and  abrupt  encounter  with  life's 
perplexities.  The  Italian-born-and-bred  Juliet  is  made  by  our 
author  to  speak  and  act  with  wonderful  truth  to  her  southern 
self." 

130.  conduit : — The  same  image,  which  was  in  frequent  use  with 
Shakespeare's  contemporaries,  occurs  in  Brooke's  poem :  "  His 
sighs  are  stopt,  and  stopped  in  the  conduit  of  his  tears." 

157,  158.  Out,  etc. : — In  the  age  of  Shakespeare,  authors  not  only 
employed  these  terms  of  abuse  in  their  original  performances,  but 
even  in  their  versions  of  the  most  chaste  and  elegant  of  the  Greek 
or  Roman  poets.  Stanyhurst,  the  translator  of  Virgil,  in  1582, 
makes  Dido  call  ^neas  hedge-brat,  cullion,  and  tar-breech,  in  the 
course  of  one  speech. 

176 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

222.  green  : — Hanmer,  followed  by  Warburton  and  Johnson, 
read  keen.  From  Chaucer  to  Longfellow  the  praises  of  green  or 
greenish-yellow  (citrine)  eyes  have  been  sung,  and  not  in  English 
poetry  alone.  In  The  Tzvo  Noble  Kinsmen,  V.  i.,  we  have  "thy 
rare  green  eye."  In  a  sonnet  by  Drummond,  the  gods  advise 
Nature  as  to  the  most  desirable  colour  for  Auristella's  eyes ;  Na- 
ture accepts  the  advice  of  Jove  and  Venus,  and  the  eyes  are  "  a 
paradise  of  green."  Compare  the  comic  praise  of  green  eyes  in 
A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  V.  i.  333:  "His  eyes  were  green 
as  leeks." 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

3.  slow  to  slack : — Malone  explains  this  to  mean,  "  There  is 
nothing  of  slowness  in  me,  to  induce  me  to  slacken  or  abate  his 
haste."  Johnson's  conjecture,  back  (for  slack),  means  to  abet  and 
enforce.  Knight  interprets  "I  am  nothing  slow  (so  as)  to  slack 
his  haste,"  which  to  Dowden  seems  the  right  explanation. 

38.  evening  mass: — White  says  that  this  is  an  error,  that  mass 
is  always  celebrated  before  midday.  Evening  service  in  the 
Roman  church,  he  adds,  is  called  vespers.  Wilkes,  confronted 
with  Shakespeare's  alleged  erroneous  use  of  evening  mass,  in  his 
inquiries  found  White's  view  supported  by  H.  von  Friesen  in  his 
Alt-England  und  William  Shakespeare,  1874.  pp.  286-7,  aiid  also 
by  Staunton,  who,  says  Dowden,  "  had  previously  noticed  the  same 
difficulty."  But  the  word  mass,  continues  Dowden,  as  used  in  the 
passage  from  Romeo  and  Juliet,  is  explained  by  Clarke  as  meaning 
generally  service,  office,  prayer.  And  in  a  note  on  the  point  in  his 
edition  of  this  play  Dowden  refers  us  to  '"  The  Religion  of  Shake- 
speare, chiefly  from  the  writings  of  Richard  Simpson,  by  H.  S. 
Bowdon,  1899,  pp.  271-274;  it  is  there  shown  that  mass  was  used 
of  various  church  offices ;  that,  in  the  stricter  sense  of  mass,  there 
was  great  latitude  in  ancient  times  as  to  the  hour;  that  Pius  V. 
(1566-72)  prohibited  evening  masses;  that  the  new  law  was  slow 
in  coming  into  operation  in  Germany,  and  perhaps  in  England; 
finally,  that  in  Verona  the  forbidden  custom  lingered  to  the  nine- 
teenth century."  As  an  interesting  use  of  the  phrase,  these  lines 
are  added  from  O.  W.  Holmes's  Under  the  Violets : — 
"  The  crickets,  sliding  through  the  grass, 
Shall  pipe  for  her  an  evening  mass." 

177 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

66.  Be  not  so  long  to  speak : — Clarke  makes  the  observation 
that  "  the  constraint,  with  sparing  speech,  visible  in  Juliet  when 
with  her  parents,  as  contrasted  with  her  free  outpouring  flow  of 
words  when  she  is  with  her  lover,  her  father  confessor,  or  her 
nurse — when,  in  short,  she  is  her  natural  self  and  at  perfect  ease — 
is  true  to  characteristic  delineation." 

93.  Take  thou  this  vial,  etc : — Brooke's  poem  reads : — 

"  Receiue  this  vyoll  small  and  keepe  it  as  thine  eye ; 
And  on  the  mariage  day,  before  the  sunne  doe  cleare  the  skye. 
Fill  it  with  water  full  vp  to  the  very  brim, 
Then  drinke  it  of,  and  thou  shalt  feele  throughout  eche  vayne 

and  lim 
A  pleasant  slumber  slide,  and  quite  dispred  at  length 
On  all  thy  partes,  from  euery  part  reue  all  thy  kindly  strength ; 
Withouten  mouing  thus  thy  ydle  parts  shall  rest, 
No  pulse  shall  goe,  ne  hart  once  beate  within  thy  hollow  brest, 
But  thou  shalt  lye  as  she  that  dyeth  in  a  traunce : 
Thy  kinsmen  and   thy  trusty  frendes   shall   wayle  the   sodain 

chaunce ; 
The  corps  then  will  they  bring  to  graue  in  this  church  yarde. 
Where  thy  forefathers  long  agoe  a  costly  tombe  preparde. 
Both  for  them  selfe  and  eke  for  those  that  should  come  after, 
Both  deepe  it  is,  and  long  and  large,  where  thou  shalt  rest,  my 

daughter. 
Till  I  to  Mantua  sende  for  Romeus,  thy  knight ; 
Out  of  the  tombe  both  he  and  I  will  take  thee  forth  that  night." 

105.  two  and  forty  hours: — "  The  rapidity  of  the  whole  conduct 
of  the  action,"  in  Dowden's  view,  "  is  surprising ;  yet,  up  to  the 
night  on  which  Juliet  swallows  the  Friar's  potion,  there  can  be  no 
question  as  to  the  dating  of  days  and  hours.  At  this  point  Shake- 
speare creates  a  difficulty  that  seems  to  be  insuperable.  He  had 
probably  noticed  in  Painter's  version  of  the  tale  a  statement  of  the 
Friar  that  the  opiate  effects  of  the  drug  were  to  continue  for  '  the 
space  of  forty  hours  at  the  least.'  As  if  to  be  more  precise  Shake- 
speare names  the  period  as  'two  and  forty  hours.'  From  what 
time  of  the  night  of  Tuesday  will  forty-two  succeeding  hours 
bring  us  to  a  very  early  morning  hour  (the  month  is  July)  of 
either  Thursday  or  Friday?  .  .  .  Perhaps  the  simplest  ex- 
planation of  the  difficulty  is  to  admit  that  it  was  never  meant  to 
be  explained ;  forty-two  hours  gave  an  air  of  precision  and  veri- 
similitude to  the  Friar's  arrangement;  it  sufficed  to  cover  two 

178 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

periods  of  night  preceding  two  Italian  summer  dawns ;  and  the 
dramatist  knew  that  spectators  in  the  theatre  do  not  regulate  their 
imagination  by  a  chronometer." 

no.  The  Italian  custom  here  alluded  to,  of  carrying  the  dead 
body  to  the  grave  richly  dressed,  and  with  the  face  uncovered, 
Shakespeare  found  particularly  described  in  Brooke's  poem: — 

"  An  other  use  there  is,  that  whosoever  dyes, 
Borne  to  their  church,  with  open  face  upon  the  beere  he  lyes, 
In  wonted  weed  attyrde,  not  wrapt  in  winding  sheete." 

•Scene  II. 

2.  Shakespeare  has  been  suspected  of  an  oversight,  or  something 
worse,  in  making  Capulet  give  order  here  for  so  many  cunning 
cooks.  Ritson  says,  "  Either  Capulet  had  altered  his  mind 
strangely,  or  our  author  forgot  what  he  had  just  made  him  tell 
us."  But  the  passage,  as  Knight  says,  is  entirely  in  keeping  with 
Shakespeare's  habit  of  hitting  off  a  character  almost  by  a  word. 
Capulet  is  a  man  of  ostentation ;  but  his  ostentation  is  covered 
with  a  thin  veil  of  affected  indifference.  In  the  first  Act  he  says 
to  his  guests,  "  We  have  a  trifling  foolish  banquet  towards."  In 
the  third  Act,  when  he  settles  rfie  day  of  Paris's  marriage,  he  just 
hints,  "  We  '11  keep  no  great  ado ;  a  friend  or  two."  But  Shake- 
speare knew  that  these  indications  of  "  the  pride  which  apes  hu- 
mility "  were  not  inconsistent  with  the  twenty  cooks. 

6,  7.  'tis  an  ill  cook,  etc. : — This  adage  is  in  Puttenham's  Arte  of 
English  Poesie,  1589: — 

"  As  the  olde  cocke  crowes  so  doeth  the  chicke : 
A  bad  cooke  that  cannot  his  owne  fingers  lick." 

Scene  III. 

5.  cross  and  full  of  sin  : — Edward  von  Hartmann  has  launched  a 
diatribe  against  Juliet.  He  asserts  her  immeasurable  moral  infe- 
riority to  the  typical  German  maiden,  both  of  poetry  and  of  real 
life.  A  Swedish  professor,  Henrik  Schiick,  says  of  Juliet :  "  On 
examining  into  the  nature  of  the  love  to  which  she  owes  all  this 
strength,  the  unprejudiced  reader  cannot  but  recognize  in  it  a 
purely  sensual  passion.  ...  A  few  words  from  the  lips  of  this 
well-favoured  youth  are  sufficient  to  awaken  in  its  fullest  strength 
the  slumbering  desire  in  her  breast.     But  this  love  possesses  no 

179 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

psychical  baSiS;  it  is  not  founded  on  any  harmony  of  souls.  .  .  . 
The  woman  who,  inaccessible  to  the  spiritual  element  in  love,  lets 
herself  be  carried  away  on  this  first  meeting  by  the  joy  of  the 
senses,  is  ignorant  of  the  love  which  our  age  demands."  These  will 
appear  to  be  cross,  that  is,  perverse  criticisms  to  most  students 
of  the  majority  of  great  commentators  on  the  character  of  Juliet. 

22,.  Lie  thou  there: — "Daggers,"  says  Gifford,  "or,  as  they  are 
commonly  called,  knives,  were  worn  at  all  times  by  every  woman 
in  England ;  whether  they  were  so  in  Italy,  Shakespeare,  I  believe, 
never  inquired,  and  I  cannot  tell." 

39-41.  As  in  a  vault,  etc. : — This  idea  was  perhaps  suggested  to 
the  Poet  by  his  native  place.  The  charnel  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
is  a  very  large  one,  and  possibly  contains  a  greater  number  of 
bones  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  other  repository  of  the  same 
kind  in  England. 

47.  mandrakes' : — "  The  mandrake,"  says  Thomas  Newton  in  his 
Herbal,  "  has  been  idly  represented  as  a  creature  having  life,  and 
engendered  under  the  earth  of  the  seed  of  some  dead  person  that 
hath  beene  convicted  and  put  to  death  for  some  felonie  or  murther, 
and  that  they  had  the  same  in  such  dampish  and  funerall  places 
where  the  saide  convicted  persons  were  buried."  So  in  Webster's 
Duchess  of  MalR,  1623  :  "  I  have  this  night  digg'd  up  a  mandrake, 
and  am  grown  mad  with  it." 

58.  Romeo,  I  come!  this  do  I  drink  to  thee: — Such  is  the  closing 
line  of  this  speech  in  the  Quarto  of  1597.  The  later  editions 
give  it  thus :  "  Romeo,  Romeo,  Romeo,  heeres  drinke,  I  drink  to 
thee;"  where  a  stage  direction  (heeres  drinke)  has  evidently  got 
printed  as  a  part  of  the  text.  Coleridge  remarks  upon  the  pas- 
sage thus :  "  Shakespeare  provides  for  the  finest  decencies.  It 
would  have  been  too  bold  a  thing  for  a  girl  of  fifteen;  but  she 
swallows  the  draught  in  a  fit  of  fright."  Schlegel  has  the  same 
thought. 

Scene  IV. 

"  This,"  says  Corson,  "  is  one  of  those  scenes  so  frequent  in 
Shakespeare's  plays  which,  by  their  commonplaceness  and  even, 
sometimes,  vulgarity,  serve  to  deepen  the  impressions  of  the  sad 
and  the  tragic." 

6,  7.  Go,  you  cot-quean,  etc. : — By  Walker,  Singer,  Verplanck, 
and  Hudson  this  speech  is  given  to  Lady  Capulet,  on  the  ground 
that  we  cannot  imagine  that  a   servant   would  take   so  great  a 

180 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

liberty  with  her  master  as  to  call  him  a  cot-quean  and  order  him 
to  bed.  It  is  also  pointed  out  that  the  Nurse  is  not  present,  having 
just  been  sent  to  fetch  more  spices. 

Scene  V. 

14.  my  lady's  dead: — Lloyd  remarks  on  this  scene  thus:  "What 
a  picture  of  a  commonplace  grieving  household  is  that  assembled 
round  the  seeming  death-bed  of  Juliet — the  world  pausing  for 
a  moment  with  suspended  feelings  at  the  shock  of  a  suddenly 
terminated  existence,  and  after  a  few  moments  recommencing 
an  unaltered  course  which  beyond  the  very  narrow  circle  of 
contact  was  never  interrupted.  No  thought  of  recent  unkindness 
touches  the  hearts  of  father  or  mother,  and  the  rapture  of  the 
blubbering  Nurse  is  a  welcome  diversion  of  our  feelings,  and  gives 
us  an  excuse  to  smile.  It  is  by  thus  completing  the  picture  of 
society  in  all  directions,  the  intellectual,  fanciful,  animated  and 
irritable,  sentimental  and  sympathetic,  and  the  opposites  and  nega- 
tives of  all,  and  in  all  grades  of  the  social  order,  that  a  living  real- 
ity is  gained  for  ideal  and  poetic  love;  and  notwithstanding  its 
exaltation  it  descends  to  us  and  embraces  us  invincibly,  and  the 
sympathies  cling  fearlessly  and  believingly  to  a  glory  that  is  bright 
with  beams  from  Paradise,  yet  so  accompanied  and  associated  as 
neither  to  scare  us  as  a  phantom  alluring  to  destroy,  nor  mock  us 
with  hopelessness  of  a  beauty  that  can  never  be  achieved." 

49.  O  woe!  etc.: — White  says  that  "in  this  speech  of  mock 
heroic  woe,  and  perhaps  in  the  two  that  follow,  Shakespeare  seems 
to  have  ridiculed,  as  he  has  done  elsewhere,  the  translation  of 
Seneca's  Tragedies,  published  in  1581.  In  the  Quarto  of  1597,  for 
the  speeches  of  the  Nurse  and  Paris,  we  have,  with  the  stage 
direction,  'All  cry  out  at  once,  and  wring  their  hands.'  " 

loi.  {Enter  Peter.]  Coleridge  has  the  following  remark  here: 
"  As  the  audience  know  that  Juliet  is  not  dead,  this  scene  is,  per- 
haps, excusable.  But  it  is  a  strong  warning  to  minor  dramatists 
not  to  introduce  at  one  time  many  separate  characters  agitated  by 
one  and  the  same  circumstance.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  what 
effect,  whether  that  of  pity  or  of  laughter,  Shakespeare  meant  to 
produce;  the  occasion  and  the  characteristic  speeches  are  so  little 
in  harmony !  For  example,  what  the  Nurse  says  is  excellently 
suited  to  the  Nurse's  character,  but  grotesquely  unsuited  to  the 
occasion." 

105,  106.  My  heart  is  full  of  woe : — This  is  the  burden  of  the 

i8i 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

first  stanza  of  A  Pleasant  New  Ballad  of  Two  Lovers :     "  Hey 
hoe !  my  heart  is  full  of  woe." 

129.  Catling: — This  worthy  takes  his  name  from  a  small  lute- 
string made  of  catgut;  his  companion  the  fiddler,  from  an  instru- 
ment of  the  same  name  mentioned  by  many  of  our  old  writers,  and 
recorded  by  Milton  as  an  instrument  of  mirth : — 

"  When  the  merry  bells  ring  round. 
And  the  joyful  rebecks  sound." 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

The  breathless  rapidity  of  incidents,  this  hasty  interchange,' 
this  closest  interweaving  and  association  of  rapture  and  misery  in 
the  distribution  of  the  plot,  is  in  sympathy  with  the  characteristic 
passion  that  gives  the  central  impulse  of  the  play,  on  which  all 
depends.  The  hasty  precipitancy  of  the  passion  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet  is  the  ruling  motive  with  which  all  the  accompaniments  har- 
monize, as  it  seems  the  highest  expression  of  a  prevailing  tendency 
of  the  age  and  the  clime. 

24.  then  I  defy  you,  stars! — The  moment  that  Romeo  receives 
the  false  tidings  of  Juliet's  death  is  the  moment  of  his  assuming 
full  manhood.  Accordingly,  he  now  speaks  with  masculine  direct- 
ness and  energy ;  he  is  now  master  of  events ;  the  stars  cannot 
alter  his  course. 

34.  Well,  Juliet,  I  will  lie  with  thee  to-night: — Nothing,  as 
Maginn  has  observed,  can  be  more  quiet  than  this  final  determina- 
tion. "  It  is  plain  Juliet ;  ...  no  honeyed  word  escapes  his 
lips^  nor,  again,  does  any  accent  of  despair.  His  mind  is  so  made 
up,  the  whole  course  of  the  short  remainder  of  his  life-  so  unalter- 
ably fixed,  that  it  is  perfectly  useless  to  think  more  about  it." 
These  words,  because  they  are  the  simplest,  are  among  the  most 
memorable  that  Romeo  utters.  Romeo,  who  was  weak,  has  at 
length  become  strong." 

Scene  IL 

5,  6,  a  hare-foot  brother  .  .  .  associate  me  : — Each  friar  had 
always  a  companion  assigned  him  by  the  superior,  when  he  asked 
leave  to  go  out.  In  the  Visitatio  Notabilis  de  Seleborne,  a  curious 
record  printed  in  White's  Natural  History  of  Selborne,  Wykeham 

182 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

enjoins  the  canons  not  to  go  abroad  without  leave  from  the  prior, 
who  is  ordered  on  such  occasions  to  assign  the  brother  a  com- 
panion. There  is  a  similar  regulation  in  the  statutes  of  Trinitjr 
College,  Cambridge.    So  in  Brooke's  poem: — 

"Apace  our  frier  John  to  Mantua  him  hyes, 
And  for  because  in  Italy  it  is  a  wonted  gyse 
That  friers  in  the  towne  should  seldome  walke  alone, 
But  of  theyr  covent  ay  should  be  accompanide  with  one 
Of  his  profession,  straight  a  house  he  fyndeth  out, 
In  mynde  to  take  some  frier  with  him,  to  walke  the  town  about." 

II.  Seal'd  up  : — A  duty  of  the  English  constable.  Herford  tells 
us  that  "  the  Middlesex  Sessions  Rolls  contain  cases  of  the  trial  of 
constables  for  neglecting  this  duty." 

i8.  The  letter  was  not  nice: — That  is,  was  not  on  a  trivial  or 
idle  matter,  but  on  a  subject  of  importance,  the  sense  of  nice 
{trifling)  being  the  same  here  as  in  III.  i.  156. 

Scene  III. 

[A  churchyard ;  in  it  a  monument,  etc.]  The  monument  in 
which  Juliet  was  entombed  plays  as  important  a  part  in  the  old 
tale  as  in  the  tragedy;  and  it  has  been  conjectured,  perhaps  with 
reason,  that  the  original  author  had  in  mind  the  tomb  of  the 
Scaligers  or  della  Scalas  in  Verona.  There  is  a  tradition  in 
Verona  that  the  lovers  were  buried  in  the  crypt  of  the  Franciscan 
convent  of  Fermo  Maggiore ;  and  a  plain  stone  sarcophagus  which 
was  removed  from  the  ruins  of  that  building  after  its  destruction 
by  fire,  is  yet  shown  in  Verona  as  Juliet's  tomb. 

12-17.  Sweet  flower,  etc.: — Instead  of  these  six  lines,  the  Quarto 
of  1597  has  the  following  seven,  which  some  editors  have  pre- 
ferred : — 

"  Sweet  flower,  with  flowers  I  strew  thy  bridal  bed : 
Sweet  tomb,  that  in  thy  circuit  dost  contain 
The  perfect  model  of  eternity. 
Fair  Juliet,  that  with  angels  dost  remain, 
Accept  this  latest  favour  at  my  hands. 
That  living  honour'd  thee,  and,  being  dead, 
With  funeral  praises  do  adorn  thy  tomb." 

48.  [Opens  the  tomb.]  Daniel  supposes  that  the  tomb  was 
placed  in  the  space  under  the  gallery  at  the  back  of  the  stage 

183 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

proper.  Malone  thinks  a  trap-door  may  have  been  opened,  and 
that  Romeo  may  have  brought  JuHet  up  in  his  arms  from  the  vault 
beneath  the  stage. 

87.  a  dead  man : — Romeo,  who  so  speaks  of  himself  by  reason 
of  his  having  come  here  to  die. 

90.  A  lightning  before  death: — Schmidt  explains  this  as  "a  last 
blazing-up  of  the  flame  of  life."  This  idea  frequently  occurs  in 
old  dramas.  So  in  The  Downfall  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntingdon, 
1601  :— 

"I  thought  it  was  a  lightning  before  death, 
Too  sudden  to  be  certain." 

92,93.  Death  .  .  .  beauty: — So  in  Sidney's  Arcadia:  "Death 
being  able  to  divide  the  soule,  but  not  the  beauty,  from  her  body." 

96.  death's  pale  Hag: — A  connection  is  traceable  between  parts 
of  this  speech  and  some  lines  in  Daniel's  Complaint  of  Rosamond, 
1592.     For  example,  compare  the  following : — 

"And  nought-respecting  death,  the  last  of  pains, 
Plac'd  his  pale  colours,  th'  ensign  of  his  might, 
Upon  his  new-got  spoil  before  his  right." 

97.  Tybalt,  etc. : — Brooke's  poem  reads  : — 

"  Ah  cosin  dere,  Tybalt,  where  so  thy  restles  sprite  now  be, 
With  stretched  handes  to  thee  for  mercy  now  I  crye, 
For  that  before  thy  kindly  howre  I  forced  thee  to  dye. 
But  if  with  quenched  lyfe  not  quenched  be  thine  yre, 
But  with  revengeing  lust  as  yet  thy  hart  be  set  on  fyre, 
What  more  amendes,  or  cruell  wreke  desyrest  thou 
To  see  on  me,  then  this  which  here  is  shewd  forth  to  thee  now? 
Who  reft  by  force  of  armes  from  thee  thy  living  breath, 
The  same  with  his  owne  hand  (thou  seest)  doth  poyson  himselfe 
to  death." 

Id.  Forgive  me,  cousin: — "Inexpressibly  beautiful  and  mov- 
ing," says  Clarke,  "  is  this  gentleness  of  Romeo's  in  his  death  hour. 
His  yearning  to  be  at  peace  with  his  foe,  his  beseeching  pardon  of 
him  and  calling  him  kinsman  in  token  of  final  atonement,  his  for- 
bearance and  even  magnanimity  towards  Paris,  his  words  of  clo- 
sing consideration  and  kindly  farewell  to  his  faithful  Balthasar,  all 
combine  to  crown  Romeo  as  the  prince  of  youthful  gentlemen  and 
lovers." 

137-139-  ^<y  ^  did  sleep,  etc. :— "  This,"  says  Steevens,  "  is  one  of 

184 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Notes 

the  touches  of  nature  that  would  have  escaped  the  hand  of  any 
painter  less  attentive  to  it  than  Shakespeare.  What  happens  to 
a  person  while  he  is  under  the  manifest  influence  of  fear,  will  seem 
to  him,  when  he  is  recovered  from  it,  like  a  dream.  Homer  repre- 
sents Rhesus  dying,  fast  asleep,  and,  as  it  were,  beholding  his 
enemy  in  a  dream,  plunging  a  sword  into  his  bosom."  But  Dow- 
den  says,  "  I  fail  to  see  any  other  '  touch  of  nature '  here  than  that 
Balthasar,  who  did  not  venture  to  his  master's  assistance,  wishes 
to  break  tiie  fact  to  the  Friar  rather  than  state  it  plainly." 

162.  his  timeless  end: — Shakespeare  has  been  arraigned  for 
making  Romeo  die  before  Juliet  awakes  from  her  trance,  and  thus 
losing  a  happy  opportunity  of  introducing  an  affecting  scene  be- 
tween these  unfortunate  lovers.  But  Schlegel  thinks  that  the  Poet 
hit  upon  what  was  best,  for  there  is  a  measure  of  agitation  beyond 
which  all  that  is  superadded  becomes  torture,  or  glides  off  inef- 
fectually from  the  already  saturated  mind.  Why  should  we  heap 
still  more  upon  accident  that  is  already  so  guilty?  "  Romeo,"  says 
Schlegel,  "  holds  his  beloved  in  his  arms,  and,  dying,  cheers  him- 
self with  a  vision  of  everlasting  marriage.  She  also  seeks  death, 
in  a  kiss,  upon  his  lips.  These  last  moments  must  belong  unpar- 
ticipated  to  tenderness,  that  we  may  hold  fast  to  the  thought,  that 
love  lives,  although  the  lovers  perish." 

194.  startles  in  our  ears: — The  old  copies  have  your  instead  of 
our.  Johnson  made  the  change,  which,  though  perhaps  not  neces- 
sary to  the  sense,  helps  it  a  good  deal. 

203.  his  house: — The  dagger's  sheath. 

204.  on  the  back : — Anciently,  the  dagger  was  usually  worn  be- 
hind the  back.  So  in  Humour's  Ordinarie:  "See  you  yon  huge 
bum  dagger  at  his  hack  ?  " 

305.  A  glooming  peace: — The  Quarto  of  1597  has  gloomy, 
adopted  by  Hudson  (Harvard  ed.).  To  gloom  is  an  ancient  verb, 
used  by  Spenser  and  other  old  writers. 

308.  Some  shall  he  pardon' d,  etc. : — This  line  has  reference  to 
Brooke's  poem,  in  which  the  Nurse  is  banished  for  concealing  the 
marriage ;  Romeo's  servant  set  at  liberty,  because  he  had  only 
acted  in  obedience  to  his  master's  orders ;  the  Apothecary  is 
hanged ;  while  Friar  Laurence  is  permitted  to  retire  to  a  her- 
mitage near  Verona,  where  he  ends  his  life  in  penitence  and  peace. 

310.  [Exeunt.]  "In  conclusion,"  says  Ulrici,  "let  me  add  a 
few  remarks  in  regard  to  the  closing  scene  of  the  drama.  It  has 
been  objected  to,  and  sometimes  altered  or  omitted,  because  it  was 
supposed  that  Shakespeare  had  there  offended  the  laws  of  dramatic 

■J85 


Notes  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

art,  inasmuch  as,  instead  of  directly  closing  with  the  death  of  the 
lovers,  he  added  a  superfluous  scene  of  explanation  and  enquiry 
which  weakened  the  tragic  impression.  But  is  the  scene  merely 
one  of  explanation  and  enquiry?  Has  the  tragedy  no  other  object 
than  of  shaking  the  nerves  of  the  spectators  out  of  their  ordinary 
state  of  lassitude,  by  scenes  of  murder  and  suicide?  Would  not 
the  death  of  beauty,  greatness  and  nobility  leave  the  impression  of 
a  revolting  murder,  did  it  not,  at  the  same  time,  express  a  soothing, 
elevating  solace?  And  this  solace,  which  is  an  element  in  the  con- 
ception of  tragic  pathos — inasmuch  as  it  also  portrays  human 
greatness  and  beauty  in  its  purification,  and  hence  in  its  true,  ideal 
reality — sounds  forth  from  this  closing  scene  in  the  soft  harmony 
of  a  calm,  intense  sadness,  a  harmony  in  which  all  harshness  is 
resolved  into  sweet  sound.  ...  No  more  significant,  more  ex- 
alting, or  more  affecting  funeral  elegy  can  be  conceived  than  is 
here  presented  to  the  lovers — the  victims  of  a  high,  noble  and 
ideal  striving — by  the  beautiful,  deeply  poetical  drama." 


i8^ 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 


Questions  on  Romeo  and  Juliet. 


1.  What  is  the  probable  date  of  composition?  What  facts,  ex- 
ternal and  internal,  assist  in  establishing  the  date? 

2.  Give  the  sources  of  the  plot.  Mention  some  earlier  plays 
on  the  same  theme. 

3.  How  long  a  time  does  the  action  of  the  play  cover? 

ACT  FIRST. 

4.  What  was  there  in  the  history  of  Verona  to  justify  the  tur- 
bulence of  the  street  scenes  in  this  play?  Why  is  Verona  called 
fair?  How  is  the  first  Scene  built  up  to  a  climax?  What  feel- 
ing of  absurdity  do  you  derive  concerning  the  servants'  quarrel? 

5.  How  is  Romeo  first  described?  Where  does  Romeo  ex- 
press sentiments  similar  to  some  contained  in  the  Sonnets? 

6.  What  argument  do  Capulet  and  Paris  enter  into  in  Sc.  ii.? 
What  facts  about  Juliet  do  you  obtain? 

7.  Who  is  not  invited  to  the  feast  of  the  Capulets?  How  does 
Romeo  discover  the  list  of  guests?  What  motive  leads  him  to 
accept  Benvolio's  proposal  that  he  go  an  uninvited  guest? 

8.  State  some  of  the  mental  traits  of  the  Nurse  as  displayed  in 
her  first  long  speech.  To  what  event,  if  any,  of  a  historical  char- 
acter did  the  Nurse  allude  when  she  said,  'Tis  since  the  earth- 
quake now  eleven  years? 

9.  What  sort  of  a  woman  was  Juliet's  mother?  What  first  im- 
pression of  Juliet  do  you  derive  from  her? 

10.  What  mental  traits  does  Mercutio  possess  as  exhibited  in 
Sc.  iv.  ? 

11.  What  is  Romeo's  feeling  at  the  gateway  of  the  Capulets? 
What  does  it  foreshadow?  Is  it  art  or  nature  that  really  demands 
these  gloomy  reflections ;  or  rather  would  it  be  good  art  to  leave 
this  Act  a  purely  idyllic  one  with  no  foreshadowing  of  tragic 
consequences?    How  does  Juliet  in  Sc.  v.  strike  the  note? 

12.  What  do  you  infer  from  the  dialogue  of  the  servingmen  in 
Sc.  v.,  considered  with  reference  to  the  following  points :    Has  it 

187 


Questions  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

any  connection  with  the  plot?     What  purpose  does  it  serve?    Why 
are  dialogues  of  this  sort  frequent  in  Shakespeare? 

13.  Review  the  first  Act  and  from  it  prophesy  the  denouement 
of  the  play.  What  have  we  here  laid  down  as  the  active  prin- 
ciple or  the  problem  to  be  solved?  What  is  the  enveloping  at- 
mosphere ? 

ACT  SECOND. 

14.  Does  Sc.  i.  contain  any  important  dramatic  action?  What 
gives  it  its  value,  or  makes  it  at  all  vital  to  the  play?  Had  Mer- 
cutio  or  Benvolio  any  suspicion  of  the  new  direction  of  Romeo's 
afifections  ? 

15.  How  do  you  explain  Romeo's  protestations  of  love  to 
Juliet  (Sc.  ii.)  in  view  of  his  past  declarations  concerning 
Rosaline? 

16.  Explain  Juliet's  dread  of  Romeo's  family  name,  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  her  father  had  spoken  kindly  of  Romeo  in  her  pres- 
ence. May  not  her  belief  that  her  father  would  not  consent  to 
a  marriage  have  been  mistaken? 

17.  Is  there  anything  in  this  interchange  of  words  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet  that  is  not  absolutely  compatible  with  the  thoughts  of 
youth  ? 

18.  Quote  such  lines  in  the  "  balcony  scene "  as  have  become 
either  proverbs  or  familiar  quotations. 

19.  When  does  Sc.  iii.  take  place?  How  long  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  action?  What  attributes  of  the  priestly  office  do 
you  see  in  Friar  Laurence?  Does  he  easily  yield  to  Romeo's 
request?     How  does  he  excuse  his  determination? 

20.  What  act  of  Tybalt's  is  discussed  in  Sc.  iv.  by  Benvolio 
and  Mercutio? 

21.  What  does  Mercutio  satirize  in  lines  19-37?  How  is 
Romeo  brought  into  the  conversation? 

22.  What  change  do  you  note  in  the  mood  of  Romeo  when  you 
see  him  in  the  company  of  Mercutio  and  Benvolio?  What  is  the 
cause  ? 

2,z.  Why  does  the  Nurse  call  for  her  fan? 

24.  Did  not  the  Nurse  enjoy  the  banter  of  Mercutio  rather 
more  than  the  indignation  she  expresses  after  his  exit  would  in- 
dicate ? 

25.  Do  you  think  Juliet  actually  sent  a  message  to  Romeo  that 
the  Nurse  will  keep  to  herself,  or  is  this  a  delicate  stroke  of 

188 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Questions 

Shakespeare's  to  exhibit  the  capriciousness  of  the  Nurse's  char- 
acter in  withholding  the  message? 

26.  What  appointment  is  made  by  Romeo?  How  is  the  sense 
of  the  danger  of  the  plan  augmented? 

27.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  Juliet's  long  soliloquy  at 
the  opening  of  Sc.  v.? 

28.  How  does  the  Nurse  play  upon  Juliet's  impatience?  Is  it 
intentional  or  characteristic? 

29.  What  do  you  say  of  the  suitability  of  the  Nurse  for  the 
post  she  holds? 

30.  Is  there  anything  fateful  by  implication  in  the  invocation 
of  the  Friar? 

31.  What  psychological  explanation  can  you  give  of  the  fact 
that  these  supreme  moments,  as  you  see  them  now  in  the  lives  ol 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  induce  moods  of  sadness  or  fatality? 

S2.  Could  Friar  Laurence  have  legally  married  Juliet  to  Romeo 
with  the  secrecy  upon  which  the  plot  depends?  What  do  you 
understand  by  the  term  "Friar"  as  applied  to  Laurence? 


ACT  THIRD. 

33.  From  the  words  of  Benvolio  and  Mercutio,  which  do  you 
think  will  pick  the  quarrel  first? 

34.  What  reasons  had  Romeo  for  avoiding  the  quarrel? 

35.  In  what  temper  does  Mercutio  leave  the  stage? 

36.  Analyze  Romeo's  /  thought  all  for  the  best  (Sc.  i.  line 
106);  also  O,  I  am  fortune's  fool!  (line  138).  What  likeness 
does  he  bear  to  Hamlet? 

37.  What  note  reminiscent  of  Hamlet  do  lines  121,  122  con- 
tain? 

38.  Does  Benvolio  tell  the  truth  in  his  account  of  Mercutio's 
death?     If  not,  what  was  his  motive? 

39.  Is  it  good  dramatic  art  to  place  a  long  speech  like  Ben- 
volio's  describing  a  scene  that  has  just  been  performed  in  the 
presence  of  the  audience?  Examine  some  of  the  later  plays, 
when  Shakespeare's  art  was  more  mature,  and  see  if  you  can 
find  similar  instances. 

40.  What  sentence  is  passed  upon  Romeo  and  upon  the  houses 
of  Montague  and  Capulet  for  the  brawling? 

41.  What  kind  of  government  do  you  find  to  have  existed  in 
Verona  at  this  period?     In  respect  to  this  is  the  play  historic? 

189 


Questions  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

42.  Explain  the  classical  figures  at  the  opening  of  Juliet's  apos- 
trophe in  Sc.  ii. 

43.  Is  the  Nurse  wilfully  playing  upon  Juliet,  or  is  she  simply 
indulging  her  habit  of  loose  statement  to  the  point  of  misleading 
her?    When  does  the  Nurse  first  directly  speak  to  Juliet? 

44.  Trace  the  successive  states  of  mind  that  Juliet  goes  through. 
What  is  the  emotional  effect  of  this  Scene?  With  what  disillu- 
sion does  it  end? 

45.  Compare  Scs.  ii.  and  iii.  and  describe  how  they  stand  as  re- 
verse and  obverse  in  their  emotional  progression. 

46.  In  Romeo's  plight  is  death  rather  to  be  welcomed  than 
banishment?  Does  Romeo  here  play  the  woman  as  the  Friar 
alleges?  Compare  the  knocking  scene  here  with  that  in  Mac- 
beth.    Is  there  any  similarity  in  the  way  they  are  managed? 

47.  Do  you  agree  with  the  Nurse  when  she  declares  that  she 
could  have  stay'd  here  all  the  night  to  hear  good  counsel,  or  is 
there  much  too  much,  and  does  Shakespeare  laugh  at  himself 
through  the  Nurse? 

48.  At  what  time  does  Sc.  iv.  take  place?  What  is  the  ironic 
effect  of  this  Scene?     What  is  its  episodic  value? 

49.  What  time  relation  has  Sc.  v.  with  Sc.  iv?  Describe  the 
mental  state  of  each  of  the  two  protagonists. 

50.  What  foreshadowings  of  future  events  do  we  find  in  the 
parting  words  (Sc.  v.)  of  the  lovers?  What  mental  resources 
does  Juliet  show  in  her  use  of  double  entente  during  the  dialogue 
with  her  mother?  Has  anything  in  Capulet  prepared  you  for  his 
harshness  and  inflexibility  in  dealing  with  Juliet? 

51.  How  would  Ophelia  have  answered  Capulet  had  she  been 
his  daughter? 

52.  Why  did  not  Juliet  upbraid  the  Nurse  for  her  perfidious 
advice?  Where  does  Juliet  turn  for  help?  Is  she  without  defi- 
nite resolution  or  has  she  a  plan  that  she  wishes  the  Friar  to  as- 
sist in  carrying  out? 

ACT  FOURTH. 

53.  Whom  does  Juliet  encounter  at  Friar  Laurence's  cell? 
What  is  the  character  of  her  interview  with  this  man? 

54.  Is  the  allusion  to  evening  mass  (Sc.  i.  38)  an  error?  If 
so,  why  is  Shakespeare  credited  by  the  critics  with  a  familiarity 
with  the  usages  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church? 

190 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Questions 

55.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  Juliet's  speech,  lines  81-85, 
multiplying  images  associated  with  death? 

56.  What  lore  is  implied  by  the  allusion  in  Sc.  ii.  to  the  cook's 
licking  his  own  fingers? 

57.  How  does  Juliet  couch  her  answer  to  her  father's  question 
as  to  where  she  has  been  gadding? 

58.  What  day  is  set  for  the  wedding?  Does  this  day  coincide 
with  the  day  the  Friar  has  assumed?  Is  this  disparity  a  vital 
point  in  the  plot? 

59.  By  yielding  to  the  suggestion  of  an  earlier  day  is  Juliet 
made  a  partaker  in  the  chain  of  causes  that  end  in  disaster? 

60.  Is  there  any  aissuading  voice?  Does  this  voice  exhibit 
anything  of  the  irony  of  character?  At  this  point  does  the  play 
touch  the  principles  laid  down  for  tragedy  by  the  ancients? 

61.  Trace  the  progress  of  emotional  states  in  Juliet  in  Sc.  iii. 
Does  this  Scene  better  than  any  other  show  her  imaginative  qual- 
ities? 

62.  What  ideas  do  you  get  of  the  management  of  a  Veronese 
household.  At  what  time  of  day  was  it  customary  to  celebrate 
nuptials? 

63.  What  effect  does  the  wailing  over  the  supposed  death  of 
Juliet  produce?  Is  it  pathetic  or  ludicrous?  What  do  you  think 
was  the  dramatist's  intention,  considering  the  fact  that  the  au- 
dience knows  what  the  Friar,  alone  of  the  people  of  the  play, 
knows? 

64.  Does  the  plight  of  Paris  move  your  sympathy? 

65.  Explain  the  musician's  words,  the  case  may  be  amended. 


ACT   FIFTH. 

66.  What  is  the  temper  of  Romeo's  speech  at  the  opening  of 
the  Act?     Its  dramatic  effect?     What  message  does  he  receive? 

67.  Is  it  likely  that  a  man  in  Romeo's  emotional  state  would 
remember  the  details  of  the  apothecary's  shop?  What  does 
Romeo  say  about  gold? 

68.  What  prevents  the  delivery  of  the  letter  that  Friar  Lau- 
rence dispatches  to  Romeo? 

69.  Does  all  the  tragic  consequence  hang  upon  this  mischance? 

70.  Does  the  cause  seem  insufficient  for  the  effect ;  that  is, 
should  we  not  be  made  to  feel  the  inevitableness  of  the  cause 
when  the  consequence  is  so  tragic? 

191 


Questions  THE  TRAGEDY  OF 

71.  What  is  the  order  of  events  in  Sc.  iii.? 

'J2..  What  is  Romeo's  response  to  Paris's  challenge? 

TZ'  Were  not  the  facts  as  known  wholly  against  Romeo,  so  that 
Paris  is  excusable  for  forcing  Romeo  into  a  quarrel?  How  is 
Paris's  case  supported  by  the  dramatist? 

74.  What  is  the  agency  that  arouses  the  families  and  the 
townspeople?     Do  you  feel  a  wide  departure  from  verisimilitude? 

75.  Is  it  a  good  dramatic  device  to  have  the  disentanglement  ef- 
fected by  the  recital  of  a  witness  or  confidant  instead  of  leaving 
it  to  the  action  itself? 

'jd.  Compare  this  with  some  of  the  later  tragedies  and  com- 
ment on  Shakespeare's  development  as  a  dramatist  in  the  way 
of  effective  curtains. 

'jj.  Is  it  defective  art  in  Shakespeare  to  prolong  his  last  acts 
beyond  the  death  of  the  principal  personages  in  such  tragedies 
as  the  present  one  and  Hamlctl  Would  the  play  have  been 
equally  artistic  had  the  ending  been  less  tragical? 


78.  Is  this  a  play  for  the  study  rather  than  for  the  stage?  Did 
Shakespeare  have  in  mind  a  play  for  the  study  when  he  wrote? 
What  is  the  difference  between  the  two  kinds  of  work? 

79.  What  class  of  admirers  could  appreciate  this  tragedy  most : 
those  who  read  it  or  those  who  witness  its  performance  on  the 
stage  ? 

80.  What  conception  of  love  seems  to  dominate  this  play? 
Brandes  speaks  of  its  Romanesque  structure:  what  does  he  mean? 

81.  Does  this  drama  give  support  to  the  notion  that  love  at  first 
sight  is  rational?  Can  anything  be  deduced  from  this  tragedy 
with  reference  to  love  and  if  so,  what? 

82.  Can  you  trace  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  throughout 
this  play? 

83.  A  Midsummer-Night' s  Dream  is  said  to  have  character- 
istics in  common  with  Romeo  and  Juliet :  what  is  your  view  of 
this  matter? 

84.  Have  you  any  comment  to  make  on  the  subject  of  the 
emotional  quality  of  the  play? 

85.  Are  the  incidents  of  this  play  in  accordance  with  your  own 
observations  of  human  nature? 

86.  Indicate  the  sonnet  form  wherever  it  occurs. 

87.  Is  there  anything  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  which  points  to  the 
conclusion  that  Shakespeare  had  been  in  Italy? 

192 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  Questions 

88.  What  is  indicated  in  this  play  with  reference  to  the  me- 
chanical structure  and  resources  of  the  stage  in  Shakespeare's 
day? 

89.  Would  you  place  Juliet  among  the  great  female  characters 
in  Shakespeare?  May  she  be  deemed  typically  Italian?  Why? 
Edward  von  Hartmann  criticises  "  her  immeasurable  moral  in- 
feriority to  the  typical  German  maiden."  How  does  that  idea 
impress  you?  Is  Juliet's  character  that  of  a  truthful  person?  Is 
she  dishonest  in  anything? 

90.  Which  is  the  more  practical  and  resolute — Romeo  or 
Juliet? 

91.  Do  you  detect  any  resemblance  between  Hamlet's  character 
and  Romeo's? 

92.  How  does  the  Nurse  compare  with  any  similar  character 
you  may  have  encountered  in  your  reading? 

93.  What  is  the  difference  between  the  character  of  Mercutio 
and  that  of  Benvolio?  Cite  characteristic  speeches  of  each  in 
support  of  your  view.  What  significance  may  be  attached  to 
Mercutio's  repetitions  (Act  III.  Sc.  i.)  of  A  plague  o'  both  your 
houses  ? 


193 


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U^k-M€u>u<nu^  4^.:i 


V<su>^o  -     Q^cX  '^-   -*  "^  L  009  978  289  8 


